Vigilantes' Dawn
by KyliaQuilor
Summary: What if Oliver Queen had invited Laurel onto the Queen's Gambit, instead of Sara? What happens in Starling City when, five years later, The Arrow and the Black Canary, together, go after the List and the rest of the City's criminals? And what happens when Detective Sara Lance finds out her sister is one of the vigilantes bringing on the dawn of a new age?
1. The Prodigals' Return

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Arrow. Oh man oh man, if I ran CW-DCTV, _so_ much stuff would be different.

Thanks are extended to WillozSummers for beta-reading

 **Author's Note:** This first chapter is a little shorter and slower than most will be, ideally, but I wanted to set some stuff up. We'll see things from Laurel's POV and Sara's POV the most, but there will be Oliver POV scenes as well. In general, I'll try to avoid rewriting scenes that happened exactly as they did in canon with no deviation - in general, if I don't include a scene in the fic and I don't reference any changes to it, it happened more or less the same in canon, unless the course of the AU would render it impossible.

 **Author's Note 2:** Okay, so, I'm going to sketch out the premises of the AU here, because trying to show it all via flashbacks would be impractical at best, and come off as badly written exposition at worst (An advantage of fanfiction is that we all know the basic material and I can explain things via A/N)

The changepoint is before the Queen's Gambit - Oliver, while he still does get afraid of the commitment as he and Laurel move their relationship forward, does not make the choice to sabotage things via Sara - so no cheating, and no inviting Sara onto the _Queen's Gambit._

Instead, he asks Laurel to come with him on the Yacht, sort of a chance to unwind and relax before she takes the LSAT. Essentially he's also using it as a 'ease into living together' thing - it's just a vacation, after all, but they'll be there on the Yacht for weeks.

The majority of the five years happen the same way for Oliver, broadly - Oliver initially believes Laurel is dead, which of course fucks him up, then she arrives on the island with Ivo, then after things go down with Slade, he assumes she's dead again - but Laurel ends up in the League. Laurel and Nyssa do not get together romantically, but they do become close.

At some point while Oliver is in Russia, Laurel is on a League mission in Russia, and that's when they meet, both realize the other is alive, and after an emotionally messy and fraught reunion, Laurel, who hates what she does for the League (but felt trapped and hopeless) leaves the League (after faking her death for their benefit) and once Oliver is done in Russia, she returns with him to Star City. Which is where the story starts.

Obviously, by switching Laurel and Sara, things change in Starling City, but those are things I can explore in the fic itself.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 1: The Prodigals' Return

 _Looking back on the history of the so-called 'Age of Superheroes', while masked vigilantes, even people with... unusual powers can be traced well before the official start of the period, it is with the rise of the Arrow and the Black Canary - or as we know them today, Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance - in Starling City that really kicked off the rise of major public awareness of these superheroes, of the vigilantes - and all the good and bad that came with them._

 _It all started one day in October, 2012, when two people were rescued from a small island in the South China Sea..._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **October 8th, 2012**

Detective Sara Lance of the Starling City Police Department was not, at least at the moment, a happy woman.

Of course, as far as she was concerned, it was hard to qualify as a happy woman when you were the newest Detective in the SCPD and being assigned the cases no one else wanted. The ones no one expected to be solved, or that were unpleasant in some other way.

Sighing deeply, Sara shuffled the crime scene photos on her desk, as if rearranging them would give her some magical insight she hadn't had before. Unsurprisingly, it accomplished nothing.

 _No witnesses, and no leads until the lab can get to me, and given how backed up they are…_

Sara didn't regret her choice to become a cop. When Laurel had gotten onto that damn yacht with Oliver, Sara hadn't had any clue _what_ she wanted to do with her life. Not really. Just aimlessly puttering around, partying harder than she should…

And then she'd gotten the news. The _Queen's Gambit_ had been lost, all hands.

The events of the day they'd all found out, when Moira had come to tell them personally, were burned into her memory. As was the day when her parent's marriage shattered completely just a few months later and she was told they were getting a divorce.

Sara had never planned on following her Dad's footsteps in becoming a police officer. The whole cause of justice thing – that had been Laurel's plan, her goal, once she became a lawyer. _Dinah Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world._

None of that, that crusading zeal, had appealed to her at all. Seemed… too much work.

But her sister's death had forced Sara to reevaluate herself, and what she wanted out of her life. And seeing her father spiral downward after the divorce had only confirmed her choice for her. She was all he had now, and he was all she had.

She wanted to help people, be close to her father, and honor Laurel's memory. And she wanted to _do_ something with her life.

And so… here she was. And for all the annoyance she felt at being treated like the newbie she was, or at the occasional whisper that she had only become a Detective so fast because of her father… there was nothing else she'd rather be doing with her life.

The sound of her ringing cell phone jolted her out of the case file and out of her roaming thoughts.

"Lance here," she said as she answered.

"Sara – are you at the station? Is your father there?"

"Mrs. Queen?" Sara spoke quietly, half covering her mouth with her hand.. She didn't hate the Queen Family, what was left of it, for Laurel's death, not like her father did... indeed, she'd tried her best to stay connected with them - especially Thea. Sara could only wish her efforts to help Thea not make the same mistakes she had in her youth had actually worked. As it stood... they really hadn't.

But the Queens had lost loved ones too - and worse than she had. And they understood. So she'd stayed in touch with Moira.

"I am... and... Dad's here too... why? Is something wrong? Is it Thea-?"

"It's not Thea." Moira said, her voice breaking a little. "Sara - Sara... it's Oliver and Laurel. They're alive."

 **Starling General Hospital**

 **October 10th, 2012**

Sara wasn't sure what was worse - the stiff, almost robotic way her sister was standing in the other room, or the litany of damage to her body the doctor was rattling off to her and her father.

"Her body is covered in scars... there's a major second-degree burn across her back... she's got several broken bones - her left arm twice, based on the X-Rays, and few of them weren't allowed to heal properly." The doctor lifted the page on the clipboard, apparently ready to keep listing still more injuries.

"Has she - has she said anything about what happened?" Her father interrupted softly, holding onto Sara's hand tightly as he turned to the doctor. Sara felt a surge of sudden gratitude for her dad - she didn't want to hear still more about all the hell her sister must have gone through.

The doctor shook his head. "No. Neither of them have said anything about it. I can only guess at how traumatic whatever they went through in the last five years was. But they didn't take well to being separated, even for testing and X-Rays. They've obviously relied on each other for survival to a very significant extent on that island. My guess would be that it would be for the best that she and Mr. Queen aren't kept apart for long periods of time, for the immediate future."

He looked from her father back to Sara. "I'll tell you what I told Mrs. Queen about her son. The Laurel you lost might not be the one here, now. You should prepare yourselves."

Sara swallowed slowly, but she knew how right he was to warn them. She'd seen the effects horrible experiences could have on people as a police officer, and Laurel had five years of it.

"Can we - speak with her?" Sara asked softly.

"Of course," the doctor stepped aside and Sara followed her father as he walked into the hospital room.

"Laurel?" Her dad said quietly, as if speaking too loudly might cause him to wake up and find out this was all some dream. Not for the first time, Sara pinched herself lightly... but she didn't wake up... this was real.

Her sister was alive.

Laurel turned to look at them and the look in her sister's eyes was enough to make Sara's heart ache. She really did have that distant, removed look... but it softened just a little, and what looked like almost a smile played across her face for a moment.

"Dad... Sara," She walked towards them slowly, and then her father drew close.

"You're alive... my baby girl," He wrapped her in a tight hug that Laurel returned, but it was an awkward, almost unsure motion. But Sara saw a hint of tears in her sister's eyes as the hug finally ended and Sara stepped forward, hugging Laurel herself, finally letting herself accept that this was happening. This was _really_ happening.

"It's really you," Sara said after a moment, unable to stop her eyes watering. "You're really here." She took a deep breath, not letting the awkwardness of her sister's return hug bother her, understanding what must be behind it.

"I'm here," Laurel said softly. She looked past them, to the door, opening her mouth to ask the obvious question, but her dad answered it before she could.

"Your mom she - she, uh... she's on her way. She doesn't - she doesn't live in Starling anymore," He explained. Sara watched Laurel's eyes go to her dad's hand, the missing ring and he nodded. "Yeah... but this isn't the time for that. This is about you, you being alive!" He put her hand on Laurel's shoulder. "I don't even know where to start... what happened to you and Queen?"

"We got to one of the life rafts and eventually we washed up on the shore of an island. We stayed alive." Laurel answered tersely. "He saved my life, Dad. More than once." Laurel's tone was still quiet, but Sara heard that tiny note of reproach in her sister's voice. Dad had never approved Laurel dating Oliver, not really, but she'd always insisted there was more to him than seemed on the surface.

 _I guess she was right._

"Laurel, if he's the reason you're alive to come back to me, I'll happily eat crow on every bad thing I ever said about him." Her dad responded, smiling a little. "How about we see about getting you out of this hospital?"

Laurel nodded. "That... that sounds good." She looked over at Sara and her eyes fell to the badge at her belt.

Sara nodded. "After you - after we thought you died... I couldn't just keep wasting my life. Just made detective six months ago." She couldn't help the pride in her voice as she said that.

"You were twenty, Sara. You weren't wasting your life," Laurel responded, but she went on, "But I'm glad you... you found a calling. That you're helping people." Laurel wrapped her arms around her middle, looking around, "I know the doctor wants to keep me here longer but... I'm... I'm okay. Promise. Can we... can we go home?"

"Of course. I'll go talk to that doctor," her father said, pulling Laurel in for another brief hug, Laurel's return of it still looking more like going through the motions, but then he left the room quickly.

They stood silent, almost awkwardly for a long few moments, and Sara took the chance

"What... what happened to you? All those injuries... the doctor..?" She didn't want to pry, but she had to know, had to ask. It was _Laurel_ and hearing all that had happened to her, the scars, the burns, the broken bones...

"The island... it was... it was hell." Laurel answered softly. "If it hadn't been for Oliver... if..." she trailed off, and Sara held up a hand, interrupting.

"Don't... don't force yourself to talk about it you aren't ready, Laurel," her burning curiosity took a backseat to Laurel's wellbeing.

Laurel nodded, "Thank you. I... I just don't - I don't want to think about it. At least not right now."

"I understand, I do. Even six months as a detective and I'm learning just how..." Sara trailed off, not wanting to really think about her sister, the strong, idealistic, _brilliant_ girl she'd looked up to - and resented, granted - could be... damaged, by the hell she experienced, whatever it was exactly. She changed the topic somewhat. "You and Oliver... alone, on the island for five years." She smirked a little, trying to put a teasing tone into her voice.

Thankfully, Laurel offered a slight smile - obviously just humoring her, but still. "If I had any doubts about wanting to spend the rest of my life with Oliver... well... I don't now."

"The doctor said you two didn't - you didn't take well to being seperated well... are you sure you're fine to just... go back to Dad's apartment? We... after Mom... Dad sold the house. I have my own place and-"

"I'll... I'll manage. We're... we're back in civilization. I can... I can be separate from Oliver without," Laurel bit her lip for a second, then started again. "On the island... we got separated, at one point. For days - I'm not sure how long... time... was weird, on the island. I thought... I thought he was dead - he thought the same about me... we..." she trailed off. "We didn't spend any time that far from each other, after that. But..." she laughed, sounding actually a little genuine in her humor.

"Now we can just call each other, if we get separated." She went quiet for a moment, and then, "Is there any chance it could be at your apartment? Not - not Dad's? I just... I don't want him treating me like I'm made of glass... and you know he will."

 _True._ Not that Sara wasn't trying to be gentle too, but it would be easier for her not to go that far. Dad hadn't been exactly _pleased_ that Sara had gone into the police, after all. Not at first.

"Of course," Sara nodded, "I only have the one bed - I can take the couch and-"

Now it was Laurel's chance to hold up her hand, interrupting Sara, "I won't make you sleep on your couch, Sara. I slept on rocks and dirt - a couch would be a nice change of pace."

 **Starling General Hospital**

 **October 10th, 2012**

Laurel hadn't lied to her sister, about not wanting to have her dad treat her like glass. But it would be easier to work out of Sara's apartment until she and Oliver could find a place. They'd be freer to do their work from there - well, some of it, anyway.

 _Assuming his family lets him out of their sight._ Moira Queen wouldn't want Oliver to move out, but she'd probably be more okay with it if he was moving in with Laurel.

 _Mom always thought the fact that I loved you was proof that whatever else, she'd raised me right._ It was something Oliver had told her, on the Yacht, a few hours before it had gone down. Before their lives had changed.

Laurel closed her eyes for a long moment, then nodded again. "The couch is fine... Sara, really. Oliver and I... I mean, we were already talking about moving in together before... before. So... we figure..."

"That you'll move in together now? Makes sense." Sara smiled and gave her another quick hug. "At least - at least you still have him. You know? And like you said, no more doubts about spending your life with him."

"None," Laurel agreed. The door opened again and her father returned with the doctor, Mrs. Queen and Oliver in tow. Oliver walked past them to stand by her side - she took his hand in hers, holding on.

 _Just because we can be separated doesn't mean I want to be._ Two and a half years, after defeating Slade, thinking Oliver was dead. A chance sighting in Russia... if she hadn't lost sight of her target, she may not have even seen Oliver at all... may not have realized he was alive...

 _I'd still be with the League._

And Laurel wasn't sure how much her soul would have been able to take staying with them for much longer, even given... everything. The costs of leaving the league. And sooner or later, they'd realize that she hadn't died in Moscow.

 _I'm back - publicly. There's no way they can just... they can just come after me. Too much exposure._ That was her hope.

"I'd really rather keep the both of you here overnight, for observation, run a few more tests, but... your parents tell me you'd both rather leave."

"We missed five years with our families, doctor," Oliver said quietly. "We just want to go home." Laurel nodded in agreement.

"Well, I'd like for both of you to come in for some follow-up in a few days, but otherwise... you're free to go," He wrote something in on his clipboard.

"Laurel - Quentin, Sara," Mrs. Queen said as the doctor turned away and left the room, "I'd like to - I'd like to ask you all to come to the Manor for dinner, at least... just our families. Together."

"If Laurel's good with that, I can be," her father said after just a second. Then he held out a hand, "Mrs. Queen, I've been... unfair to your family, hating you for what happened to Laurel. Sara kept telling me I was being stupid but uh... well, stupid is sometimes my speciality. You lost people you loved... and while you have Oliver back, and I have Laurel back... you still..."

He trailed off then cleared his throat, starting again. "Look, I just want to apologize, for being such an ass."

"Apology accepted, Quentin," Mrs. Queen held out her hand and they shook.

 **Dining Room, Queen Manor**

 **October 10th, 2012**

"Okay, what else did you miss," Tommy Merlyn started as the maid took away their plates. Moira Queen had said family only, but for all intents and purposes, Tommy _was_ the brother Oliver never had, and so here he was. Besides, while she'd never been as close with Tommy as Oliver had, he'd been her friend too. _Hopefully he still will be, for both of us, whatever else changed._

"Superbowl winners: Giants, Steelers, Saints, Packers, Giants again. A black president, that's new. Oh, and 'Lost'? They were all dead, I _think._ "

"You missed the last three _Harry Potter_ movies," Sara added.

"Three?" Laurel blinked, "They'd come out with the 5th movie already when I-"

"They broke book seven into two movies. It sounds like it was just a gimmick to make money, but it actually works pretty well," her sister explained.

"So... a lot to catch up on," Laurel considered. Not that they'd really have time to stay abreast of all the pop culture they'd missed.

"What was it like there?" Thea interjected suddenly, looking from Oliver and then over to her.

Laurel blinked for a moment, as everyone at the table went silent. Finally, Oliver answered first:

"Cold."

 _Oliver..._ Laurel bit her lip then spoke: "There were... a lot of trees. No beds... a lot of food we burned on the fire trying to cook it, at first." The truth of all that, of course, was dubious, but they'd prepared their stories about their 'time on the island' well.

"Since you two have a lot to catch up on, why don't we do the city tomorrow?" Tommy suggested.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Moira nodded.

"I'd love to, Tommy, but... Mom's plane lands tomorrow morning," Laurel replied, looking over at her dad. "You said seven thirty, right?"

He nodded. "She took the earliest flight she could... she suggested we should meet at Sara's place." There were so many questions Laurel wanted to ask about the divorce, the whys and the wherefores - was it something that had been brewing beforehand, that she hadn't noticed? Or was it all after her 'death'?

"Then it'll be just the two of us, maybe meet up with Laurel later?" Tommy suggested, and Oliver nodded.

"Afterwards," he added, looking at Walter, "then - I was hoping to swing by the office."

Walter equivocated, and Laurel wondered what he was trying to hide. "Well, there's plenty of time for all that - Queen Consolidated isn't going anywhere-" before he could finish, Raisa tripped and nearly fell on him, starting to apologize, but Oliver replied in Russian, telling her not to worry.

"Dude, you speak Russian?" Tommy's incredulity was matched by everyone else at the table apart from her.

"I didn't realize you took Russian at college, Oliver," Walter started, but he was interrupted again, this time by Oliver.

"And I didn't realize you wanted to sleep with my mother, Walter ."

"Oliver!" Laurel hissed at him as the table went silent - again. "Could you - could you excuse us a moment?" She stood up and grabbed Oliver's hand, all but dragging him out of his chair, but he followed her out of the dining room into the hallway, closing the door behind them.


	2. The Crusade Begins

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, we all know, Arrow is not mine, etc, etc.

 **Author's Note:** Just in case anyone wonders at some point - I do not know the source comics for Arrow at all and I have no interest in reading them (as a medium, comics just aren't my cup of tea). This is an Arrow (TV) fanfic, and I will not be incorporating any comics material that isn't in the CWDCTV shows or associated universe in some fashion. I know a lot of Lauriver fans are, unlike myself, big fans of the comics, but we're not going to see some sort of comics loyalty here, in any fashion.

Also, if anyone is interested (I usually mention it once per fic or so) I have a tumblr, .com, where I make various commentaries on my fandoms and fandom in general and discuss, from time to time, my fanfics. If you ever wanna ask me about my fics, that's a good place to go for that.

Thanks again to WillOzSummers for beta-reading. Her tumblr is ravenclawjuliawicker.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 2: The Crusade Begins

 _There's a lot about this early period that's poorly documented, only told to people well after it happened, muddling up the historical record with all the flaws of human memory. Much of it can be corroborated, to varying degrees, with news reports and the like, but when the Arrow and the Black Canary began, they weren't exactly thinking about what people more than a hundred years later might wonder about them and their actions._

 _And so, much of our understanding of those early days, especially their first year in operation, requires a somewhat "Sherlock Holmes" approach to history, trying to piece disparate clues into a single, semi-coherent narrative._

 _Sometimes, we're not all that successful._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Hallway, Queen Manor**

 **October 10th, 2012**

Laurel waited until they were in the hallway before she poked Oliver in the chest, not caring if she used a little too much force - not that Oliver showed any sign that he was bothered by it.

"Oliver, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Her voice was a low hiss. This was _not_ how things needed to start out. Yes, she'd been surprised to see that Moira Queen had remarried, but after five years, it wasn't that hard to believe.

And unlike Oliver, she'd never had rose colored glasses when it came to his parents marriage - Robert Queen hadn't been the most faithful of husbands... and that marriage sometimes seemed to exist in name only anyway.

"I'm not going to just sit there and say _nothing_ when my mother and my father's friend are-"

"What, remarried?" Laurel interrupted, not letting him finish. "How many women did you cheat on me with, before the yacht?" She didn't need to ask the number - not anymore, anyway.

"Laurel-" Oliver started, and she could tell from his tone he was about to apologize again. Laurel cut him off a second time.

"Oliver, I forgave you for all that," and she really did, even if she knew some of the friends she'd had before... before the Yacht would think she was crazy for doing so. But then, they hadn't lived the last five years she had, that Oliver had. "That's not why I'm bringing it up. And I know you won't again. But it does mean that you are the _last_ person who has any right to get upset with _anyone_ else over perceived infidelity!"

"Besides, shouldn't you be happy that your mom is happy? That she's found someone she loves and who loves her?"

"I..." Oliver opened his mouth, then shut it again, slowly. He let out a long sigh. "I just..." Then he shook his head. "I suppose it's not as bad as finding out your parents are divorced... Laurel, I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have - and... you're going to be seeing your mom tomorrow..."

Trailing off, Oliver just pulled her in for a hug, holding her close for a moment, and Laurel returned the gesture, resting one hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think it'll be easy, trying to handle the inevitable..." Laurel trailed off.

"Awkwardness?" Oliver offered.

"Awkwardness, that sounds right. And I - was I the reason they got divorced? Was there something lingering there, that I missed, or... after I was presumed dead, did-" Laurel shook her head, trailing off. _Did I have my own rose-colored glasses for their marriage?_

"You can't keep wondering about that," Oliver murmured, and Laurel nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. It would drive her mad, wondering about that, blaming herself for her parents' divorce. Just like driving herself mad about people she couldn't save, couldn't help helped no one - and would just make her crazy.

 _So much you just have to accept you couldn't stop, not all by yourself._

"I know... I know." She took a breath. "We should go back in, finish with dinner. And you need to apologize to your mom, and Walter."

"You're right. You're right," Oliver sighed and they pulled apart, Oliver taking her hand in his. Together, they walked back into the dining room, and Oliver looked at his mother and - well, technically his stepfather.

Taking a breath, Oliver said, "Mom... Walter... I - I just wanted to... apologize. I was just... thrown off, and... It's going to be something I'll have to get used to. I'm sorry for- reacting badly."

"It's okay." Moira replied after a moment, sharing a look with Walter, then sending a small, appreciative glance Laurel's way. "I don't want you to think we did anything to disrespect your father's memory. But-"

"You thought he was dead. He -" Oliver's voice broke. "He _was_ dead. I understand. I-" He trailed off and looked at Walter. "I wasn't trying to make you feel uncomfortable." Laurel squeezed his hand supportively. This wasn't easy for Oliver, and it was probably going to take time for him to really be comfortable with this, but...

It was the right thing to do.

 _How am I going to feel when I see mom, and dad and see how uncomfortable they're probably gonna be around each other?_

"It's quite alright, Oliver," Walter replied. "It's understandable that this," He reached over and took his wife's hand in his, "would be a surprise to you."

Tugging Oliver back towards his seat, Laurel sat down and looked around at the table. "Sorry about - about that. Where were we?"

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **October 10th, 2012**

"And here's the kitchen. Tiny, I know, but I don't use it that much, so it balances out," Sara finished giving Laurel the five-cent tour of her cramped apartment. She didn't make a lot of money on a detective's salary, and she didn't need a lot of space.

 _I pretty much just sleep in here and that's about it._ Okay, that wasn't entirely accurate, but she was working the long hours she'd seen her dad work growing up, and then some, being the new detective on the totem pole.

"I take it you haven't gotten any better at cooking, then?" Laurel offered with a small laugh that, to Sara's ears, sounded a little forced. _Trying to act like she's doing better than she is._ "I mean, you haven't burned the apartment building down, so..."

Sara winced, remembering the disaster when she'd tried to cook for mother's day one time when she was 16. The house hadn't burned down, but she'd just about destroyed the oven. "I haven't set off the smoke alarms. If we were to have breakfast before leaving to meet Mom at the airport. I wouldn't kill you, but..." She shook her head. "Not really."

"Sara, after the island, anything cooked in a real kitchen would be better." Laurel turned her head back to look through the doorway back to the couch in the living room. "Do you have spare blankets, or-"

"Laurel-" Sara started, then bit her tongue, making a guess. "I'm not going to be able to convince you to take the bed and let me have the couch for the night, am I?"

"Nope." The glint in Laurel's eyes was reminiscent of all those times when they were kids Sara hadn't been able to wheedle her older sister into doing this or that thing Sara had wanted her to do. Just... a little harder. _More_ certain. "Not sure what I'd know to do with a real bed, just yet. A pillow alone would be _amazing_."

"Pillows in short supply on the island?" Sara joked, and Laurel nodded.

"You have no idea," Laurel responded. "But I'm not really tired just this second anyway. Catch me up on _you_. I didn't just miss five years of Superbowls and movies. I missed five years of my little sister's life." Laurel went over to the couch and sat down, and after a moment, Sara joined her sister on it. "You're a detective now, but... I mean, what else? Are you dating anyone? What's your life like besides the job and... I mean... I missed everything."

"I'm still the same annoying little sister I was five years ago, I promise... just... well, I had to learn responsibility. And-" Sara gave a humorless laugh. "Well, these days it doesn't feel like there's much of anything outside my job. I think I may have inherited dad's workaholic tendencies. Though you did too, so," She shrugged, smiling a little. "I knew it would be a lot of work, but I didn't - I dunno, I didn't realize all the... paperwork. The dull parts. It's like college, but occasionally you arrest someone."

This time, Laurel's laugh wasn't forced at all, though it was still a soft sound, as if she wasn't used to exercising the necessary muscles to laugh. _Not that much chance for humor on that island, I'm guessing._

"As for... seeing anyone. No. Not since senior year of college." Sara bit her lip. Intellectually, she had absolutely no reason to believe that Laurel would have a problem with her being bi. She'd fought with her sister yeah, over stupid sibling stuff, but she'd never doubted that when it really counted, Laurel would always love and support her. And Laurel was pretty far from being homophobic, so...

But she couldn't pretend that, emotionally, she was a little worried. It could be a bit of a big thing to drop on her sister right after she's returned, but it was going to come up at some point or another, and probably soon.

"She - she didn't really like the idea of dating a police officer, so broke things off about halfway through the year." It hadn't been a super-serious relationship, at the end of the day. She hadn't been happy about it, but it was what it was. "I've just been too busy since for anything serious." A few hook-ups and flings was enough for her for the time being.

"She?" Laurel raised an eyebrow. "So..."

"I'm bisexual," Sara nodded, "Looking back there were some things - but I really realized it a little over four years ago." That tiny worried part of herself braced for any negative fallout.

There wasn't any, of course - Laurel gave her sister a quick hug, holding her tightly for a moment. It was just as awkward as the hug in the hospital, but it was the thought behind it that really mattered. Sara returned the hug, chastising that voice in the back of her head for being an idiot, and having a small mental sigh of relief.

"I love you," Laurel said, pulling back. Her sister must have seen that hint of relief in her face, because she went on, "Wait, did you think I'd have a problem with-"

Sara held up her hand, two fingers very close together but not quite touching. "A little tiny bit," she smiled ruefully as she said that. "Stupid, I know, but... it's like with mom and dad. They'd already divorced by the time I was ready to come out to them, so it wasn't at the same time or anything... both times I got all ready to have, you know, defend myself, the whole 'I'm not undecided', 'it's not a phase'... all the cliches. I didn't have to. I didn't really think I'd have to but... I was ready to... and..." She trailed off a moment.

"It was nice to have it confirmed." Sara confirmed.

"Well, it's good that I don't have to, to - yell at either of our parents for being terrible about it," Laurel commented, and Sara got the distinct impression that her sister had meant to say something other than 'yell' before she'd chosen that verb.

 **Sara Lance's Apartment  
October 11th, 2012**

The storm shouldn't have kept her awake, and it really wasn't what was keeping her from getting to sleep. It wasn't helping but...

Well, Sara was not looking forward to the meeting with mom and dad. She might have been closer with her mother in a lot of ways, before... the Queen's Gambit was lost, but after the divorce, after her dad ran to the law and Sara 'ran after him'...

 _I didn't become a cop just to be close to dad..._

No. She'd done it because of Laurel, of wanting to feel like she was being a sister Laurel would have been proud of... and since, she'd come to realize that she... liked the work. Feeling like she was doing her tiny part to make the world a better place, despite all the bureaucracy and... scut work of being a detective...

And the challenge, too, when she could actually help bring a murderer to justice.

But her mom always felt like Sara joining the Starling City Police Department had been her 'picking her father's side.' It had... strained things between the two of them.

 _And of course there's just mom and dad being in the same room..._ But this wasn't about her, or even about mom and dad, really. It was about Laurel.

It was the dreading of the awkwardness that was getting to her, it was the... well, it was trying to wrap her head around everything.

 _All those injuries... did they just... happen from living on an island alone?_ They had to, they were alone there, on that island, but - what happened to them? What happened to her sister, what happened to Oliver? In all the years she'd known Oliver through him dating her sister, he'd never been so... serious, as she'd seen him there at that dinner.

 _Which makes sense but-_ Sara was pulled out of her thoughts by a crashing/thud sound in the living room. _Laurel._ Sara was up and out of bed in an instant, resisting her instinctive urge to grab her gun, but going into the living room all the same.

Laurel had fallen off the couch, tangled in blankets, struggling against... something in her dream - or nightmare - murmuring something over and over and over again.

"Laurel?" Sara tried to call her sister out of whatever nightmare she was lost in/having... but it didn't work. Crouching down, Sara put a hand on Laurel's shoulder, saying her name again: "Laurel?"

The reaction this time was immediate. Laurel's eyes snapped open and she lunged up, trying to grab Sara by the neck. It was only barely that Sara got out of the way, and the blow that landed on her shoulder _hurt._ Dropping back, Sara saw Laurel's widen as she realized where she was, and who she'd attacked.

"Sara! Oh god I'm- I'm so sorry..." She repeated her apology several times, but Sara shook her head, rubbing at her shoulder.

"Laurel - it's okay. It was - it was just a dream. You're safe." She went over to her sister and - carefully - pulled her into a hug. Laurel was too shaken to return it, murmuring another apology before falling silent.

 _What happened to her on that island?_

 **Parking Lot, The Glades**

 **October 11th, 2012**

Oliver watched Laurel get out of Sara's car. To anyone else, Laurel's expression would have been unreadable, but to Oliver...

"That bad?" He asked, as his girlfriend drew closer.

"No... not bad... just... awkward. Very awkward. I'd really rather not talk about it." Laurel said softly after a brief sigh. She turned around and waved back to Sara, who nodded and drove off. Laurel look over at Tommy. "And how did the morning go for you two?"

"Showed him the new sights around town, caught him up on more. Then he wanted to drive by his dad's old steel plant on the way here. Why did you two want to meet down here in the Glades anyway? This whole section of the city's gone to crap."

"Less of a chance of paparazzi," Laurel said quickly, and Oliver was still a little surprised at how easily Laurel lied, and how well. Five years ago, even small lies had been unacceptable to her. But...

 _Two and a half years in the League of Assassins... everything we went through..._

It was his fault she'd changed. She was still, at her core, the same idealistic woman she'd been but she was... harder. And all because he'd asked her to come on the yacht with him.

"I suppose there is that," Tommy agreed. "So where did you want to go then? It's only just past two, and all the best hangout spots are still closed for _hours_."

Oliver started to give an answer when he heard the screeching sound of tires turning hard into the mostly empty parking lot, then another car coming in from the other side of the lot - four men in identical red demonesque masks stepped out, two from each car - and Oliver felt the sting of a dart in his neck-

His hand flew to the dart, pulling it out, but it was too late - Laurel and Tommy were hit right after him and then-

Black.

 **Parlor, Queen Manor**

 **October 11th, 2012**

"So let me get this straight, a guy in a green hood and some blonde woman with a mask wearing all black just... flew in and took the kidnappers out? All four of them armed with guns?" Oliver heard the skepticism in Detective Lance's voice, but the hostility he'd long grown used to hearing from the man was gone.

 _I guess he meant it when he apologized, that he was willing to give me a second chance._ That was... that was a relief. Quentin Lance had never liked him before, never thought him good enough for his daughter. Which, as far as Oliver was concerned, was true, but he'd never planned to stop Laurel from dating him if she thought he was worth it. Though she had given him a lot of second chances before the _Queen's Gambit_ , he didn't plan on making her need to decide if she wanted to give him another. That had been his vow when they found each other again in Russia, and he had every intention of sticking to it.

"That's what happened, Dad," Laurel said quietly, squeezing Oliver's hand. "We're not lying."

"Not saying you are, but it's a pretty tall order to believe. I mean, who were they? Why'd they kill those guys but leave you three alone?"

"Find them and you can ask?" Oliver suggested. "I wasn't going to argue the whole 'leaving us alone' thing. The two of them... they killed the guys in the masks and then cut the zip ties and let us go. Didn't say anything."

"What about you, Merlyn?" Lance held up two sketches, one of a nondescript man in a hood, and the other a blonde in a mask who didn't much look like Laurel. "You see either one?"

Neither of them had planned on starting things so soon - they'd hoped to have a few months to get ready before they started the mission - started dealing with the list, and started addressing all the crime in Starling City. The people on the list weren't alone in making this city suffer. That was the deal he'd made with Laurel - they do both. Work together and separately to clean up the streets of all the city's criminals, as much as they could.

But they'd expected to have time to prepare, to separate the emergence of the vigilantes from their return to the city. The kidnapping - and the implication. It was easy to follow - someone else had known about the list. And they wanted it kept secret.

All but clear proof that what had happened to the _Queen's Gambit_ wasn't an accident.

"I - I was still out of it. I saw movement, but everything was blurry," Tommy shook his head. "Sorry."

"Were you able to identify the men?" his mother asked Lance. The detective shook his head.

"No. Scrubbed identities, untraceable weapons. Pros, in other words."

"Kidnapping seems the most likely motive, given that," Lance's partner added. "We'll do more digging, but you'll probably want to stay careful, Mr. Queen."

"I'll do my best," Oliver said.

"If any of us remember anything else," Laurel added, "I'll let you know, dad. These two may have rescued us, but they're murders. I'm not okay with that." Oliver nodded in agreement, as did Tommy.

"Alright." Quentin gave his daughter a quick one-armed hug and a light kiss on the cheek. "You need a ride back to Sara's place, or-"

"I'll stay here with Oliver for a bit, at least," Laurel said after seeming to think it over for a few moments.

"Fair enough. We'll - we'll keep you all posted if we learn something more, much as we can." Lance turned back to Oliver's mother and Walter and gave them each a brief nod. "Mrs. Queen. Mr. Steele."

"Thank you, Detectives," His mother said as Lance and his partner headed out of the parlor, towards the front door.


	3. Respective Targets

**Disclaimer:** Arrow isn't mine. Is Lauriver Canon? No? Then I don't own it.

Thanks to WillOzSummers for beta-reading

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 3: Respective Targets

 _In hindsight, of course, it seems almost laughably obvious that the Arrow - then known to the public as The Hood - was Oliver Queen, and the Black Canary - called 'The Banshee' by most at first - was Dinah Laurel Lance. The timing, all the coincidences that would build up over the months and years..._

 _At the time, of course... well, who would have thought a playboy billionaire would grab a bow and arrows and practice their archery lessons on other members of his own class? The answer, of course, is really no one. And with the Hood dominating most of the speculation in that first year, most people didn't even really think to draw connections between the lower-profile, but arguably more effective, Banshee and the archer cutting a swath through the city's elite._

 _Not for a few months, anyway._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **The Foundry**

 **October 12th, 2012**

"You're not going to be able to keep ditching your security every time, Ollie." Laurel pointed out, wiping the back of her hand across her brow as she surveyed the results of work they'd put into their new base of operations, underneath his father's old Steel Mill. There was still more to do - a lot more - but they had the basic foundations up - a mannequin with her old League outfit, modified as it was to suit her new needs, complete with the blonde wig she planned on using as an additional mask on her identity , a place for Oliver to handcraft his arrows, several ways to train, so there was no risk of either of them losing their edge...

"No... but if I keep ditching him, maybe he'll quit, and after a few security guards quit, she'll stop hiring them," Oliver looked back at her over his shoulder as he retrieved his arrows from punctured tennis balls he'd pinned to the wall, five for five. "I can't really do this if I have a babysitter."

"Given everything I know about your mother, I don't think that's exactly likely," Laurel picked up her tonfas and gave them an experimental swirl. She'd had these carefully made to have a similar balance to the swords she'd used in the League, but... well, it was never going to exactly be the same, now was it? She would need to get more practice with them in before she was anywhere near as good as she'd been with her swords.

 _But these have the advantage of being far less lethal._ Laurel had no illusions that she'd be able to be a vigilante and never kill someone - or never do so much damage they died of complications later - but she had every intention of keeping every criminal low-life alive as best she could.

 _The killing had to stop._ The League had saved her life, given her purpose again when she'd been lost, hating herself for what she'd done to stay alive, thinking Oliver dead...

But the death... it had sapped at her soul, and she knew she'd never make up for what she'd done for the League.

She couldn't avoid it always - hadn't been able to avoid it yesterday - but... Laurel forced her thoughts back to the now as her boyfriend started walking towards her.

"Well, you obviously have an idea." Oliver took off his quiver and set it down on a table, looking over at her, arms folded across his chest. "Let's hear it."

"Making excuses for where you're going would be a lot easier if your bodyguard was able to help cover for you." Laurel put the tonfas down and gestured around the room. "We talked about this possibility - how saving Starling City would be easier with more than two people on the job."

"You want to recruit him?" Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I remember the conversation. Every person we bring in increases the danger, to them, and us. I thought we agreed we'd wait a while to even consider it. You think Diggle's a good fit?"

"We did," Laurel agreed, "But that was before we were forced to change the timetable and your mother decided to assign a babysitter to you." She smiled ever so slightly at the way his brow furrowed when she said 'babysitter'. "As for whether or not this Diggle would be a viable option - I don't know. But if not him, then one of the other bodyguards your mother is likely to hire after him... if you go through enough of them, in theory one of them will be recruitable."

"So," Laurel shrugged, "let's keep an eye on him."

"Alright," Oliver agreed, nodding. He looked over at her costume on the mannequin, "Going out tonight?"

Laurel nodded, "Cindy, that pilot's daughter. I think I've found her. And I don't think you'll need any help going after Adam Hunt. Not when no one in this city is expecting a visit from a vigilante."

"I'm going after Adam Hunt?" Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Might as well - he's in the news, and on your father's list." She nodded over towards the array of computers, the central one playing a muted feed from one of the local news channels. The headline at the bottom of the screen: "Adam Hunt Trial Ends, Declared Innocent". Walking over to it, Laurel turned up the volume.

"-three week trial, in which multiple pieces of evidence were ruled inadmissible by Judge Grell, Adam Hunt has been declared innocent of embezzling nearly $40 million from his clients' savings accounts -" She turned back to Oliver as the news reporter continued talking.

"Seems like now would be a good time for him to face a little justice. Or at least the chance to avoid it."

"Hopefully he'll see reason quickly," Oliver said. "Adam Hunt it is." Oliver sat down in front of one of the other computers and pulled up information on the man. "Looks like his building is across the street from the convention center. I guess I know where Tommy is going to hold our welcome back party."

Laurel rolled her eyes. "Of course he wants to throw a welcome back party. And of course you have to keep up appearances."

Oliver nodded. "Even after we get someone to arrest me and try to make a case, some people are going to wonder, unless I give the city a reason to assume I couldn't possibly be the vigilante." Laurel still wasn't sure if that part of Oliver's plan was a good idea, but she could follow the logic.

 _Would have worked better if dad was still determined to hate Oliver._ But it looked like her father really meant it when he said he'd 'happily eat crow' about Oliver. Which... well, boded well for the long-term future, in theory, but it did threaten their immediate plans, somewhat.

"And who would think an irresponsible playboy running a hip new nightclub is the guy shooting arrows into the 1%?" Laurel nodded. She'd always known at least some of Oliver's partying had been performative... now it would be... more so.

"There is one... change to the plan I think we should make, at least for the moment," Oliver started hesitantly. "I know the plan was for us to find our own place, make it easier to mask our comings and goings, but..." Oliver let out a deep breath. "Thea's doing drugs again, or still, Laurel. And with Mom assigning me a bodyguard... I think they still need me there, for longer than we planned, or thought."

"She probably didn't stop. I don't even want to imagine what she might have graduated to by now, if she's been acting out and coping with drugs all five years." Laurel said after a long moment's consideration.

"I don't think she started when she was twelve... I hope," Oliver said softly, but he understood what she was saying.

For a split second, Laurel doubted Oliver, wondering if he was masking an unwillingness to move in together by using Thea as an excuse. But he wasn't, and she knew it. Oliver had been afraid of commitment, afraid of what moving in together could mean, but not anymore. Not like that.

"If you think that's what's best for Thea, for your Mom, right now..." Laurel wasn't thrilled about the idea, but she understood. Being protective towards Thea was part of what made Oliver who he was. "It's a good thing your bedroom is larger than some people's apartments."

At the look of relief on Oliver's face, Laurel allowed herself a slight smile. "I still want us to have our own place, in the city, but I sleep better with you next to me than without." Laurel hadn't had a repeat last night of her first night on Sara's couch, thankfully... but she couldn't risk hurting her sister again, possibly worse, next time Sara tried to help her out of a nightmare.

 _And I know she will, even knowing the risks._

"Only for a few months, I hope." Oliver said. He got up and grabbed the front of her tank top, pulling her against him. "I promise I'll make it up to you," he added in a low murmur, before pressing his lips against hers.

A few minutes later, the two of them found reason to be _very_ glad they'd had the foresight to lay down the training mats already.

 **The Glades**

 **October 12th, 2012**

Though she had a general idea of where to look to find Cindy, the Glades were still a big place, a maze of streets and alleys and dilapidated buildings in need of repair and maintenance. Desperate people who made up the underclass of Starling City - the poor, the homeless, the desperate criminals.

And less desperate criminals who flocked to that desperation like flies to a corpse.

But until she could pinpoint the girl, there was still work to be done.

"C'mon, you know what we want," the thug grabbed the woman's wrists, holding them together to stop her flailing. "All this fighting just makes it more fun." The thug's two friends' laughter echoed his words.

Laurel didn't wait for him to take things any further. Wordlessly, Laurel dropped down from the roof she'd been watching from, landing in amongst the three men.

"What the-" another started to say, but she was already on him, her tonfas sweeping his legs out from under him as she rose back to her feet.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be? Some sort of hero?" The first one demanded, ignoring the woman he'd been attacking, who was pressed against the alley wall, too scared to move. He pulled out a switchblade. "Three on one - I like those odds." The man she'd felled was already starting to struggle to his feet, and the second man pulled out a switchblade as well.

"Knives? You really should have brought guns," Laurel said coldly, dropping her voice a register. "Not that they'd have helped either." In a flurry of blows, Laurel attacked the first man, hitting first one side and then the other, then with another hit to his hand, his knife flew from his grip, skidding across the ground and landing several feet away. She ducked under a punch, rolled to the left and grabbed the man's arm, using his own momentum against him, all but throwing him into the one she'd knocked down who had finally clambered to his feet.

The last one, also armed with a switchblade, came at her, but she evaded his thrust with ease, sidestepping him and pinning his arm between her tonfa - and with one pressed in on the inside of his elbow, she pushed the other up, _hard_ , and watched his face contort in pain as his arm was broken. She shoved him to the side as he stumbled backwards - the other two were rising to their feet a few feet away, but not yet - Laurel looked over at the woman:

"Run." She didn't need to say it twice, apparently, and the girl darted off. Laurel leapt backwards, and the two still standing attackers rushed towards her, exactly as intended. Before they could reach her, however, Laurel dropped one tonfa and pulled a small metal object from her belt. The League generally didn't prefer modern technology for its kills, but they'd recovered various interesting toys here and there from their missions, and sometimes made use of them.

Including this one, and the specially designed plugs that stopped it from affecting her.

Pressing the button on the side of the sonic device and throwing it, Laurel watched as both men dropped to the ground, crying out in pain, trying to cover their ears. Even as the device was still screeching, Laurel retrieved her dropped tonfa, approached the two kneeling men. It was quick work, knocking them flat on their backs, then grabbing an arm from each in turn, twisting and _snap_.

"If I see _any_ of you trying to hurt someone again, your arm will be the least of your concerns," Laurel all but growled as the device shut off. Before the thugs could recover enough to say anything - all of them still whimpering and babbling in pain - she knocked them out one by one with a swift _whack_ to the back of the head.

 **The Glades**

 **October 12th, 2012**

Laurel looked at the picture again. It was her. Had to be. Years older now, yes, a homeless teenager just getting by to survive, missing from a group home. But it was her. Cindy.

As the girl turned down an alley, taking a no doubt well-used shortcut, Laurel dropped down in front of her. Cindy took a surprised step back, blinking.

"What the hell?" The girl tensed, clearly ready to run, but also confused enough to not do it just yet. Laurel held up empty hands.

"I'm not here to hurt you," She told the teenager. "Your name is Cindy."

"Hey look lady, nobody's called me that in a long time. I don't know what your game is, and yeah, I'm digging the whole look you've got-" Cindy started, putting up a show of false bravado.

"A little under four years ago, your father went missing, along with his plane." Laurel held up the picture he'd given her. She'd made him a promise, and she hadn't been able to keep it before now, but...

"How- what the hell?!" Cindy demanded, grabbing at the picture. Laurel let her take it.

"Your father's plane flew into the middle of something much bigger than him," Laurel explained softly. "He was shot down... I tried to help him... but I couldn't. His last words were about you. He asked me to find you... but I wasn't able to come here before now."

The girl looked at the photo, and Laurel could see a few tears forming in Cindy's eyes, but she blinked them away quickly.

"A little late, wouldn't you say?"

"I would," Laurel agreed. "And I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner to tell you. He loved you... if you ever doubted that, don't."

"Who - who are you?" Cindy staggered back a pace, then swallowed and looked Laurel in the eyes. "And - why the hell are you dressed like that? You think you're some kind of superhero?" The teen scoffed, throwing up obvious walls. Laurel wondered what exactly she'd been through the last four years, what it had been like.

 _Hell, probably. Her own personal brand of it, anyway_.

"Not exactly. But I'm here to help this city. A few blocks east and you might still see some of my handiwork." Laurel inclined her head to the side a little. "So if I don't call you Cindy, what _do_ I call you?"

"Sin," the girl answered after a moment. Laurel nodded.

"I'll see you around, Sin," Laurel turned, leaping on top of a dumpster.

"Wait - so you're gonna drop something that heavy on me and just run off?" Laurel looked back at her.

"Like I said, I'll see you around." Before Laurel could jump/climb her way up to the roof - a different one than she'd been on minutes before - Sin asked another question.

"What - what do I call you, when I see you around again?"

Laurel smirked slightly. "Black Canary."

 **Convention Center, Starling City**

 **October 13th, 2012**

"He's still got almost an hour, Ollie," Laurel murmured. "I think we've managed to time it so we'll be _just_ fashionably late enough."

"Probably," Oliver agreed, putting his phone into his pocket. "I'll have to give Tommy this, I think he's gotten _better_ at throwing parties in the last five years."

"You'd be the connoisseur of parties of the two of us. I can barely hear myself think with this music going." Laurel rolled her eyes, and grabbed his hand, holding it as they approached the stairs down to the main floor. To Oliver's great lack of surprise, Tommy was already started, a drink in one hand and surrounded by a bevy of girls, but he turned around in time to see them coming. Gesturing for the DJ to cut the music, Tommy ran up towards them.

"Everybody! Hey!" He shouted over the crowd, which slowly dropped in volume to more manageable levels. Clapping Oliver on the back lightly, Tommy went on, "Man and woman of the hour!" That was greeted by cheers that Oliver suspected was as much inspired by the free drinks and the party itself as any specific appreciation for Laurel and him.

"Come on, ladies and gentlemen, let's give these two a proper welcome!" He stepped back and let Laurel and Oliver continue down the stairs as 'We are the Champions' began to play, the crowd parting so they could get to the raised platform in the center of the crowd. After squeezing Laurel's hand for a moment, he let it go and stepped onto the platform, accepting the shot glass Tommy was handing him.

"Thank you very much everybody!" Oliver shouted over the crowd. "A lot of people have been asking what I missed most while I was away, and well -" Oliver downed the drink in one go, "I missed tequila!" The crowd went wild, cheering as the music went back to yet another dance beat.

Oliver dropped down from the platform, pulling Tommy in for a quick hug. "Thanks for putting this together so quickly man."

"This, this was nothing. You should see what I can put together when I have time to throw a _real_ party," Tommy chuckled. He looked past Oliver to Laurel. "Ah, and there's the disapproving glares I missed so much," referencing an old joke dating back to when they were all still at Balloi Prep.

Laurel smiled a little, giving Tommy a hug herself. "I shudder to think what you've been getting up to without me to help keep you grounded, Tommy."

"There is that," Tommy agreed, "but I was also missing my major accomplice here, so I think it all balances out. Though, since I have you here, I need your assistance as my wingman." He turned around and gestured to three dancing young women in low-cut, but still relatively tasteful dresses. "Right now, I'm thinking Carmen Golden, but I don't know, what's your take?"

Oliver could practically hear Laurel rolling her eyes behind them, but she didn't say anything. "Which one is Carmen Golden?"

"The one that looks like the chick from Twilight." Which didn't help at all. Oliver looked over at his friend, -

"What's Twilight?"

Tommy started to answer, then, "You're so much better off not knowing, trust me."

"Tommy, if there's one thing you've always been good at, it's picking up women. I'm sure you'll do well with whichever one you pick," Oliver started to say something more, but then he saw a familiar profile out of the corner of his eye.

 _No._

But after he turned his head slightly to see, sure enough, there she was, and then...

 _She's meeting her dealer here._ Thea shouldn't even be at this party.

 **Convention Center, Starling City**

 **October 13th, 2012**

Laurel checked her phone. 10:19. Oliver was just starting to cut - or shoot, in this case - a swath through Adam Hunt's men. He'd promised he'd do his best to leave them alive, but Laurel knew at least one of them was likely to end up dead. Once a fight started, bullets and arrows flying...

"Where'd Oliver go?" Laurel looked up at Tommy.

"He needed some air," Laurel said, more or less honestly. "This many people in so small a space... we're not exactly used to it. But I think Ollie's having a harder time with it, at least tonight." She saw Tommy's face fall, and Laurel shook her head. "No, Tommy, don't - this is a great party, and he wasn't lying when he thanked you for throwing it. It was just... a little more overwhelming than he expected."

"You too, or you wouldn't be standing up here, away from the party," Tommy pointed out. Laurel had to nod at that.

"Well, I was never into partying as much as you two were," she pointed out. "But yeah, I'm finding it a bit overwhelming too."

"I asked Ollie about the Island, what you two went through... he didn't want to talk about it. Am I going to find out anymore from you?"

 _I was only there for about a year, give or take, all told. Oliver spent more than three years total on that hell._ The last few months between killing Kovar and their rescue had actually almost been relaxing, in a way. Certainly less violent. But nothing would ever make Lian Yu _not_ an awful place for the both of them.

"Not right now. Sorry, Tommy. Suffice to say, it wasn't pleasant. But what about you - what have you been doing the last five years?"

"Oh, you know me. Spending Dad's money. Got grabbed by the cops for more of of the same a few times. I think I'd never see my father if he didn't show up to bail me out and make the problem go away." As always when the topic of Malcolm Merlyn came up, bitterness rose to the fore of Tommy's voice.

"No change there then," Laurel said softly. "So just that?"

"More or less. The first year after... after I thought you died weren't... well, I got a little more intense on the parties than even I like," he shook his head. "You know, I didn't mean to drop a depressing mood over the atmosphere. Sorry."

"You're allowed to talk about things not going perfectly for you, Tommy," Laurel countered. When they'd seen Tommy again at the dinner at Queen Manor, she and Oliver had just assumed he'd managed to make it through those five years about as well as one could expect. Tommy had always been resilient - he'd had to, after his mother died.

 _But he's just as good at hiding how he's feeling as Oliver is, and you both knew that._

"Friendship is a two way street. You might not have been stuck on a desert island like Oliver and I were, but... you lost your best friend-"

"Both of my best friends," Tommy corrected. "Oliver might have been my wingman, but I like to think we're just as close -" Before he could say more, the sound of the music thrumming in the background suddenly cut off. Tommy turned, looking over the ledge. "What the hell?" Laurel joined him, and saw several SWAT team members moving into the crowd, though at least they had their weapons lowered.

"Is that your dad?" Tommy pointed. Laurel followed his gaze and feigned surprise.

"It's him. What is he doing-" Laurel hurried down the stairs, hoping Ollie got back into the party before her dad noticed he was missing. This had been planned, but still, every plan faced the reality of execution.

"Starling City Police, the party's over kids!" Her father shouted, his words greeted by boos.

"Detective," Tommy said moving towards him. "What is this?" He gestured to the myriad of police officers around the room.

"Oh, Mr. Merlyn. Imagine my surprise at seeing you here. Roofie anyone special tonight?"

 _What the hell dad_?

"Dad!" Laurel said, moving to stand next to Tommy. "What are you doing?"

"Laurel- I..." Her father hesitated.

"I know you don't really like my boyfriend or Tommy, but are you seriously just breaking up this party and accusing Tommy of date rape just because-"

"Laurel, that has nothing to do with why I'm here. Look, the-"

"Detective!" Oliver said over the sound of the crowd, brushing past several people to stand on the other side of Tommy. "This is a private party. You're Laurel's dad, you're more than welcome, but I don't remember inviting all of your friends."

"There was an incident at Adam Hunt's building, and we need to search the premises," her father said, his tone suddenly less harsh, though Laurel could pick up on a hint of annoyed hostility. _I guess he really_ _ **is**_ _trying..._

"Adam Hunt?" Oliver's expression didn't flicker at all.

"Millionaire bottom-feeder. His building is just across the street, and that guy in a hood that rescued you three the other day dropped down onto the roof of this building after paying Hunt a visit."

"The Hood guy? You haven't found him, have you?" Oliver smiled, "I'm gonna offer a reward." He turned around and held up two fingers. "Hey, everyone! Two million dollars to anybody who can find a nut bar in the green hood!" The crowd cheered wildly and Oliver turned back to her father.

Under other circumstances, Laurel would have been annoyed or upset with Oliver antagonizing her father like that, but after he'd accused Tommy of date-rape, she didn't mind. _Dad, I love you, but you can really be a complete ass sometimes._

"You can look around, but this _is_ a private party, and it hasn't broken any laws, so you can't just shut it down," Laurel told her father. "Unless the law was changed pretty radically in the last five years, anyway."

Her father started to say something, but his partner interrupted. "We'll check the rest of the building, since it looks like he's not in this room." Not entirely gently he pushed her father away from the three of them.

Once he was away, Tommy looked over at her. "Your dad can be a real piece of work, can't he?" Out of the corner of her eye, Laurel watched Oliver approach the podium and shout for the music to start again.

"Unfortunately," Laurel agreed as the DJ got back to work. "Look, Tommy, I'm sorry he-"

Tommy shook his head. "I'm used to your dad being an ass, Laurel. You don't need to apologize for him." When Oliver reached them again, Tommy changed topic. "It is a hell of a coincidence though," Tommy pointed out. "I mean, one of the two people who rescued us from those kidnappers attacks Adam Hunt the same night you have a party here?"

Laurel looked at him carefully. Did Tommy suspect? And did he have any reason to? _Did he wake up a little in that warehouse?_ It was a chilling thought, but if Tommy knew for sure, he'd say something, right?

Oliver shrugged, "It's a pretty obvious place to have a party," he pointed out.

"I think we should just be thankful he didn't go after anyone here." She met Oliver's gaze for a second, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

 _Adam Hunt is dealt with. One down... a whole book's worth to go._


	4. Heart To Heart

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow, obviously.

 **Note:** Narratively speaking, Sara does fill some of the roles that Laurel did in canon, but it's not exactly a one for one relationship.

As a general rule, I tend to operate under the assumption an Episode starts on its air date, unless it's clear it isn't - if there's a two-parter, or the episode picks up right after something happened last episode, et cetera. And I move the date forward as it does in an episode.

If Oliver seems a little too expressive and open here - keep in mind, he's in a different place, mentally and emotionally, than he was in canon, because of the different experiences, thanks to Laurel. He's not carrying around the guilt of having been responsible for Sara's death (or Laurel's, for that matter, once they met again in Russia and realized the other was alive) and being with Laurel in Russia and the Island for six months before coming back to Starling City has improved things in some ways for him too.

I'm not sure I'd say he's 'better', per se, but he is in a different emotional place. I'm doing my best to triangulate all this so he still feels in character, but changed for the different context and circumstances. If you feel like I'm not quite hitting the mark, please (politely) let me know what you think I'm doing wrong and while I can't promise I'll always agree with your thoughts, I won't just ignore and dismiss them.

Thanks to WillOzSummers for beta-reading.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 4: Heart To Heart

 _Was Star City really more criminal than other cities? Is that why vigilantes first rose there?_

 _Of course not. It had a strong criminal element, many corrupt elite, but overall, it wasn't much worse. Not until Malcolm Merlyn, for reasons still debated by history, conceived of his 'Undertaking', anyway. Until_ _ **after**_ _the completion of the Undertaking. Until the rise of Superheroes did, for a time, cause escalation._

 _And of course, the Arrow and the Black Canary were not the first vigilantes - not even the first in Starling City. Just the first truly high-profile ones. Common convention may date the beginning of the Age of Superheroes with the return of Laurel Lance and Oliver Queen to Starling City, as does this very book, but between groups like the Justice Society of America and various others... well, conventional dating is as arbitrary as saying when the Roman Empire was officially founded, or when it ended, when various historical Golden Ages truly began and ended..._

 _History, like so many things, is the art of making assumptions, drawing conclusions on limited and often insufficient evidence and then building them into compelling narratives told confidently._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Starling City Courthouse**

 **October 17th, 2012**

"Now, onto the offices," his mother began as they walked out of the courtroom and down stairs into the main lobby. "Everyone is waiting to meet you there."

Oliver bit back the immediate 'no' that rose to his throat. When he'd suggested dropping by the office last week... he hadn't expected his mother would be so enamoured of the idea, and he hadn't expected she'd actually expect him to take a position at the company.

She hadn't said as much, not yet, but he'd picked up on her implication over the course of the week, as she talked around the topic.

 _I can't do what I need to do... what this city needs behind a desk completely failing at whatever job they assign me._ He wasn't his father, he wasn't a businessman, and none of the skills he had - before or after the sinking of the Queen's Gambit - were exactly translatable to the world of business.

"Mom," Oliver said, his thoughts taking barely a second to process, "that was... a little bit heavier than I was expecting." Which wasn't actually lie. Apart from saying they'd both arrived on Lian Yu, together, at the same time, nothing Laurel or he had said had been a lie... just... simplified.

But reliving that moment - Laurel, presumed dead... floating in the liferaft with his father's dead body... arriving on the Island...

"Can we do that tomorrow, please?"

"Of course," his mother replied, sympathetically.

"Thank you." Oliver saw a confused look on Tommy's face, and not for the first time, wondered just what Tommy suspected... he hadn't said anything, and Oliver was _certain_ Tommy hadn't been properly conscious to see Laurel and him kill those kidnappers...

But it did seem like Tommy suspected... _something_. Or maybe he was just suspicious, even if he wasn't aware of why...

 _Or,_ a little voice in the back of Oliver's head that sounded suspiciously like Laurel said, _you're just paranoid and hyper-aware and looking for threats that don't exist._

Which...

Well, Oliver couldn't exactly say she was wrong.

"Last week, you couldn't _wait_ to get to the company," Tommy said after a long moment.

"And I had just gotten back from five years away from civilization. I wasn't exactly thinking straight," Oliver pointed out.

"Cut him some slack, Tommy," Sara said, walking up beside them along with Laurel. "I mean, you haven't exactly been interested in working for Merlyn Global."

"Ah, but I've never expressed even a little interest in taking my 'rightful place' at the company," Tommy pointed out, complete with air quotes. "Dad and I have a pretty good system going - I ignore him when I don't need him to smooth things out when I have too much fun, he ignores me when he's not scolding me about being irresponsible... it works."

Sara rolled her eyes, "You've said as much. Repeatedly." She looked over at her sister. "How did you ever put up with these two?" She gestured to Tommy and Oliver.

"Hey!" Oliver protested, right alongside Tommy, but Laurel just smiled.

"I'm not entirely sure, but they have their moments," Laurel teased. Sara looked like she was about to say something more when her phone rang. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the incoming number.

"Hold on, I have to take this. Work." She brought the phone to her ear, "Emily," Sara gestured for them to go on ahead, and the three of them did so - as they reached the lobby of the Courthouse, Sara started catching up with them, and Oliver caught the tail end of her call, unintentionally.

"-Somers will pay," Sara said to whoever was on the other end of the line. "I promise." She hung up, "Anyway," Sara said, looking at Laurel and Oliver. "How does it feel to be legally alive again?"

Laurel shrugged, "About the same, all things said and done." She looked over at Oliver, then the doors out onto the steps. "Ready for the jackals and vultures again?"

"Define 'ready'?" Oliver asked, but opened the door.

 **The Foundry**

 **October 17th, 2012**

Laurel picked up the pace as she moved from pole to pole, 'attacking' each with her tonfas in turn, running through the paces of the basic tonfas might have been weighted the same as her swords, it was still a different experience, and she was still getting used to her enemies _not_ having their skin sliced open when she hit them.

It was rote forms, not dynamic combat, but that's all the fighting was, really - you learned the forms, you applied them and you trained them hard. And she couldn't let up the training - neither of them could. Once you stopped training, stopped preparing...

Well, that's when you were dead. It was a lesson they'd both learned the hard way. Her from the League, and him from his experiences on Lian Yu, in Hong Kong, and in Russia.

It was almost soothing in it's simplicity, as she stepped up the pace again, moving faster and faster, running through the motions again and again and again-

"You've been at that for over half an hour, Laurel," Oliver's voice cut in, breaking her reviere. "Time to change it up."

Laurel dropped one tonfa and caught the bottle of water he tossed her, unscrewing the cap and taking a small drink, then shook her head. "This is where I need to keep my focus. One of the idiots I went up against last night actually managed to draw his gun and fire before I could get it out of his hands. He missed, but still."

She looked over at Oliver, who was loading arrows into a quiver and loading the tennis ball launcher. "Besides, look who's talking."

"I do change up what I'm doing," Oliver countered. "Besides, I spent the last half hour researching the name I'm going after tonight. Martin Somers."

Laurel blinked for a moment, then she remembered where she'd heard the name. "Dad and Sara were complaining about him the other day - said the DA wasn't doing his job prosecuting him for having one of his stevedores murdered - because he's working with the Triad."

Oliver nodded, "Victor Nocenti. Survived by a daughter - Emily Nocenti. And unless I miss my guess, that's who your sister was talking to on the phone at the Courthouse." After a moment's thought, Laurel realized Oliver was probably right - Sara had greeted the call with 'Emily' and Laurel did recall catching the name Somers at the end of it. "I think she's still investigating him, probably looking for some sort of proof the DA can't dismiss."

"Well, it certainly sounds like Sara to try to find a system outside the system like that." Laurel agreed. It was hard for Laurel to entirely reconcile the reckless, irresponsible - though fundamentally good-hearted - girl she'd known growing up, especially once Sara hit her teenage years, and the Detective Sara Lance her sister had become.

Not entirely - Sara was still there, in a way that Laurel almost envied. Sometimes Laurel looked in the mirror and saw a stranger, though less and less since she'd found Ollie again.

But this Sara was... so inside the system. Following the rules. It was almost comforting to hear that her sister might be doing something a little less... inside the box.

It would be comforting, that is, if Martin Somers wasn't a murderer in cahoots with the Triad.

"It's too reckless for Sara to do something like that. Against a man like Somers?" Laurel shook her head. "She needs to stop." She was happy that Sara enjoyed being a cop, enjoyed helping people by solving crimes and arresting killers and other criminals...

But it was too dangerous for Sara to do it. Especially off the books.

Except...

Laurel didn't want to stifle her sister. And it wouldn't work to just try and force her to stop.

As if reading her thoughts, Oliver asked the obvious rhetorical question: "Has telling your sister to stop doing anything _ever_ worked?" He spoke as he activated the tennis-ball shooter and then got another five for five perfect shots in a matter of seconds. "That's why I'm going after Somers now. He'll face justice - confession or an arrow. One or the other."

"If he doesn't confess after your visit, I'm coming with you for the take-down," Laurel said with finality.

"You're ready for the city at large to know that the 'Hooded Vigilante' and the 'Black Canary' are working together?" Oliver retrieved his arrows. "I thought you wanted to keep that under wraps for longer."

"If there's even a chance this bastard could go after Sara to get her to leave him alone, I don't care," Laurel shook her head. So far, she'd managed to stay under the radar of city-wide news. The thugs she'd beaten up weren't talking to reporters, and no one she'd hit was high profile enough to draw attention. And the people of the Glades she'd helped were spreading word inside the community, but not out of it. The only knowledge the police had of her masked identity was what she and Oliver had given the sketch artist after the kidnapping.

"Most of them are calling me 'the Banshee', from what I'm hearing," Laurel told him. "We'll have to fix that before it starts to stick. And you're fine with just 'The Hooded Vigilante', 'The Hood Guy'?" The Banshee just didn't have the right connotations - and she'd picked Black Canary for a reason.

"I'm not in this to be a symbol the way you are, Laurel. I don't need name recognition."

"Starling City needs more than just a grim reaper mowing down the corrupt," Laurel said. "You can't just punish the evildoers and expect that to raise everyone else up."

"That's why you're doing what you're doing," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I can't be that symbol for the people of this city - you... you served two and a half years in the League of Shadows and you're still ten times the good person I could ever be."

 _Bullshit._ "Ollie... we've talked about this," she dropped the other tonfa, set the bottle of water aside and approached her boyfriend, putting her hand on his shoulder. "If you weren't a good man, I'd have never fallen in love with you in the first place. Five years of hell doesn't change that."

She might sometimes not recognize herself in the mirror.

Oliver, on the other hand?

She wasn't sure he _ever_ recognized himself in the mirror anymore.

 **Living Room, Queen Manor**

 **October 18th, 2017**

"Now where do you think my son is going on these chaperone-less excursions?" his mother asked Diggle.

"Ma'am," Diggle responded, "I truly do not know." Which was true, but it seemed a bit incomplete. Oliver hadn't just _avoided_ his bodyguard. He'd knocked the man out last week at the convention center... and the veteran had said nothing of it to his mother. It did make Oliver wonder if Laurel might be right. Though he didn't think Diggle suspected he was 'The Hood'

Deciding this was the best time to walk into the room and cut off his mother's line of questioning, Oliver spoke up as he entered: "And he truly doesn't."

His mother turned back to him, hands spread a little, "Then perhaps you'd like to share with me where it is you - and Laurel with you, usually - run off to?"

"Nowhere," Oliver shrugged, "Everywhere. Mom, we were alone on that island for five years - just the two of us. We're still... we're still getting used to other people being around. Sometimes... we just need a little time to ourselves."

His mother took a step towards him. "Oliver, I... I can't pretend to know what happened there," his mother, master of the implication as she was, didn't need to say 'because you won't tell me' for him to get that quite clearly, "but there have to be better ways for you two to handle things than just gallivanting off all over the city alone. It's not safe - you've already been kidnapped once, and there's a maniac out there, _hunting_ the wealthy!"

"That maniac saved my life," Oliver pointed out.

"This isn't a game!" His mother raised her voice a little, looking at him intently, "I lost you once - and I am _not_ going through that again!" Oliver closed his eyes a moment, feeling a little guilty at the tiny note of fear and desperation in his mother's voice that she was masking under layers of sternness.

But he still needed to do what had to be done.

 _I really hope Diggle can be convinced to help._ He wasn't sure yet... but well, it would make things a lot easier. His mother was far more dead set on this bodyguard thing than he'd thought she'd be.

"Okay," he said finally, then looked over at the man, "Dig's my guy." The other man had a look of complete skepticism as he met Oliver's eyes.

"Thank you," his mother said softly, before leaving the room. Oliver shrugged apologetically:

"Sorry to give you so much grief."

Diggle shook his head, buttoning his suit jacket back together. "I served three tours in Afghanistan, Mr. Queen. You don't even come _close_ to my definition of grief." As he spoke, he walked around the room to stand next to Oliver. "But I'll tell you what - you ditch me one more time, no one will have to fire me." Oliver nodded slowly, and Diggle too walked out of the room.

Before Oliver could really stop to consider what to do with that, Thea entered the room, clearly dressed for a night out with friends. Partying.

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere loud... and smoky," Thea answered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "And don't bother trying to pickpocket my stash this time - 'cause I'm gonna go get drunk instead." The sarcasm in his sister's words was biting and bitter.

"Thea..." Oliver said softly, knowing how hypocritical he had to look, wagging his finger at his sister like this. "Do you think this is what Dad would want for you?" It was a low blow, using Dad, but...

He'd tried to get through to Thea, and it wasn't working.

"Dead people don't want anything," Thea replied, her voice a little cold. "It's one of the benefits of being dead."

"I was dead, Thea," Oliver countered, his voice even softer. "And I wanted a lot."

"Except for your family," Thea said, still cold, "You've been home for a week, and when you're not with Laurel - even usually when you are - you've done nothing but avoid Mom, ignore Walter and judge me - for the exact same things you used to do." Thea turned away, walking for the door. "Don't wait up."

"She's not wrong," Laurel said as the door closed behind Thea. "About any of it."

Oliver let out a breath, "You haven't exactly been all that open with Sara or your dad either." There were no recriminations or sarcasm in his words - it was just the truth. As was what she'd just told him.

Laurel sighed next to him. "It's harder than we thought it would be, isn't it?" She rested her head on his shoulder, linking her arm with his. "Coming home, I mean."

 _It is._

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **October 18th, 2012**

Sara wondered - as she often did - if there was some unwritten rule that cops were expected to have terrible coffee at the station. Always. It wasn't like she could afford any of the even moderately fancy stuff, but the coffee she made at home didn't taste like she expected battery acid did.

This stuff, on the other hand...

 _You're still drinking it._

"Sara," at the sound of her dad's voice, Sara turned around. "Do you have a moment?"

"Yeah," she nodded, moving so she wasn't blocking the coffee machine. "What's up? I heard you were following up another lead on this hooded vigilante?" Her father seemed really determined to bring him to justice. Sara wasn't so sure... the guy had killed a few people, and put dozens more in the hospital...

And yet... he was getting results. Just yesterday, Marcus Redmond had returned all the money he'd 'borrowed' from the pension plan he'd overseen, reportedly after a visit from the Hood. And he and his friend, the woman in black, had saved her sister, Tommy and Oliver from those kidnappers. And of course, there'd been Adam Hunt.

But...

He was a murderer. And he was acting completely outside the law. And there _was_ a reason vigilante justice was illegal. She did get that. But still...

 _Well, no one ever said I was as much of a cop's cop as my father._

"I was. Turns out he paid a visit to Martin Somers last night. Not that the scumbag admits it, of course." Sara could see the build up to a fatherly lecture. He must have found out what she'd been doing the last few weeks on her off hours, when she had them. "He said something interesting - that I wasn't the only Detective Lance that had been around the port lately." He looked at her pointedly. "Something you want to tell me?"

Sara shrugged, "You just said it. I've been around the port recently - doing my job." She sipped at her coffee and winced at the taste, screwing up her face in disgust. This pot was even worse than usual.

"Your job is not to go around harassing powerful and dangerous people, Sara!"

"I haven't been harassing him, dad, and yes, that's _exactly_ my job! I don't care how powerful he is - he had Victor Nocenti killed, and I'm going to find proof, something that even the DA can't ignore, no matter how much he wants to." Sara set her coffee down and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I haven't violated any rules or laws on searching or harassing the man, but my _job_ is to help put criminals behind bars, and that's exactly what I'm doing!"

"What you're doing, Sara, is running an off the books investigation that _will_ get you in trouble while you're pissing off someone who has no problem with having people killed! And you're next on his list!"

"Dad, I'm a police detective, and before that I was a police officer - I arrest dangerous people for a living! I have a gun, and I have been in a firefight before!" Sara shook her head, "And it's only off the books because the DA's office shut down the investigation into Somers before it could even start! I promise Emily Nocenti that I'd bring her father's killer to justice, and I plan to keep that promise."

"I thought I lost your sister, Sara. For five years, I thought she was dead. I can't go through that again with you, especially when it'll be for good!" Sara could remember how her dad had run to his work, crawled into the bottle, after the _Queen's Gambit_ went down, after mom left...

"But Laurel's not dead, Dad, and that argument didn't work on me when I first joined the force, so it's definitely not gonna work now!" Sara shook her head again, feeling a little angry at her father's low blow. "I'm not going to just drop this investigation - I have a duty as an officer of the law to see it enforced on everyone, no matter how connected they are, and I'm doing everything in my legal power possible to see that through." She picked up her coffee mug again. "Where do you think I got that from?"

 **Backyard, Queen Manor**

 **October 18th, 2012**

It was a little morbid, looking at his own gravestone.

He'd been dead, for five years. It made sense that he'd have one, even without a body. But like a lot of things... he hadn't even considered that. He listened as Thea explained how she'd used to come out to his gravestone, sometimes daily, and talk to it, as if talking to him, about her day, whatever she was going through or dealing with. How she'd beg him to come home, someday, somehow.

"Now here you are," Thea said, her voice thick with emotion, dampness in her eyes, "and the truth is... I felt closer to you when you were dead." Thea paused only long enough for a short breath. "Look... I know, it was hell where you were. But it was hell for me here too. You at least had Laurel... for a while there, I didn't even really have mom."

 _But I didn't have Laurel..._

Not that Thea knew, or could know that. And he could understand what she was saying, what point she was trying to make.

"You gotta let me in, Ollie. _Please_." She took a step closer to him. "Because right now, it feels like my brother is still gone, and I _hate_ that feeling."

Oliver pulled his sister into for hug, "Thea... I'm sorry." After a moment, she returned it. When it was done, he pulled back. "You're right. I do... I do need to do better, to open up." There was so much he couldn't tell her, even if he could manage to be really open. So much about the last five years, about what he was doing now... he couldn't tell her, couldn't talk about with anyone but Laurel.

But even if he had to lie about the details...

Yes, he had to save this city, fulfill his father's last request... but not at the expense of just completely leaving his family behind. Coming home was so much harder than he'd expected it to be - Diggle was right about one thing. Home was a battlefield, and it wasn't like the battles he'd had to fight in the last five years.

"We didn't always... talk, on the island." Oliver said, his voice quiet. "There was a lot we did talk about, for a while, at first. Not just basic things, like 'I found water', but... everything. But after a while... it hurt. Every time we talked about anything deeper than just... survival, it brought back things we couldn't think about. Not if we wanted to be focused on seeing the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that."

"We couldn't think about..." Oliver trailed off, trying to work through what felt like a blockage in his throat. "Everyone back home. Family... friends... even the simple things, like... fast food and stupid commercials and annoying music on the car radio. I didn't think about what it was like for you, back home, because if I did that, I'd miss you too much, miss everything and everyone here back home... and and then I wouldn't be able to do what I had to do to survive."

"We'd go whole days without talking to each other at all, sometimes, because it just hurt too much." He took in a breath. "I need to get better, at talking, at... everything I had to leave behind while on that island. It's going to take some time, but I promise I'll try to do better, if you'll give me that time?"

Thea, who was tearing up again, just a little, nodded, this time being the one to initiate the hug. Oliver returned it.

"Yeah, Ollie, I can. Just... just don't take too long." She looked up at him a little, a sudden smirk forming on her face. "Hugging people that aren't your girlfriend is one of those things you really need to practice too."

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **October 18th, 2012**

She had played it cool with her dad earlier, unconcerned about the notion of Somers sending people to kill her, but she wasn't quite as blase about direct threats to her life as she'd pretended.

Since she'd come home an hour ago, she'd kept her gun to hand, and when she heard the knocking at her door... well, she wouldn't admit it to her father, but her first thought was assassin.

Which is how she'd ended up greeting her sister at the door with a gun in one hand, though not actually pointed at her.

"Sorry." Sara said, switching the safety back on and stepping aside so Laurel could come in. She was carrying a bag of food in one hand and a drink-holder with a pair of milkshakes But it wasn't just any food.

"You didn't."

Laurel held up the bag, showing the logo clearly. "Patty Shack, on 5th and Brewer. You always insist they're the best burgers in town."

Sara snatched the bag from her sister's hand with a smile, "Because they _are_. But I distinctly remember you thinking Big Belly Burger is better. Somehow I don't think that changed because you were stranded on an island." She opened the bag and pulled out a burger.

"Consider it a peace offering. Dad called and asked me to come over and talk some sense into you. I'm not sure why he thinks I'll have better luck." Laurel walked past Sara and set the drink holder on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"I'm not going to stop looking for evidence I can use to nail Martin Somers to the wall," Sara said. "Bribe of a burger, even a great burger, isn't going to do it." She pulled out a thing of fries, then handed the bag back to Laurel, sitting back down on the couch, her service pistol resting on the coffee table again.

"I do remember how stubborn you can be," Laurel shrugged, unwrapping her burger. "But you really shouldn't be doing this. I spent five years wanting to see you again. You're taking a big risk going after this Somers guy... I just don't want to have to worry about..." she trailed off.

"At the end of the day, it's not really that much risk more than I do being a cop in general," Sara shook her head. "Switch our positions for a second - pretend you got to go to Law School and you joined the DA's office like you were always hoping to, and _you're_ the one who isn't dropping the investigation into Somers. Would you let Dad try to scare you off the case?"

Laurel bit her lip for a long moment, saying nothing, before she finally sighed and took a bite of her burger. After she swallowed, she shrugged. "No, I wouldn't. I just... " she sighed again. "Well, I can tell dad I tried."

"You really didn't think it would work, did you?" Sara couldn't help but laugh a little - and then her sister had to ruin the moment by dipping one of her fries in her milkshake. "Really, you _still_ do that?"

"It's delicious," Laurel protested. "And this is the first time I've had fries or a milkshake since I got back, so let me enjoy this." She popped the monstrosity against fast food into her mouth.

Sara laughed, "Fine, fine. I take it burger and fries aren't really a thing at the Queen Family Dinner table?"

"I think Moira Queen might die of shock and indignation if a burger or fries was put on her plate," Laurel said, dipping another fry. "She has very firm ideas about the way the world should be."

"Amusing as it is to think of your future mother in law - oh, don't give me that look, you and Oliver are going to get married sooner or later, duh - having a conniption fit over junky fast food, if we're not going to talk about how I'm not ending my investigation into Somers, I'd rather talk about you."

Laurel sat up a little straighter, stiffening a little - almost imperceptibly really, but Sara knew her sister too well to not pick up on it. "Look... I'm not expecting you to just... spill everything, right now. Tell me everything that happened on that island." _I'm not even asking you to explain your scars, no matter how much I want to know... need to know who hurt my sister like that._ "I just... want to talk to you about... you. It doesn't have to be about the island... just... anything. I mean, are you planning on going to law school?" Future plans was a safe topic, right?

The answer had to be yes. Being a lawyer had been Laurel's dream for... well practically ever. Certainly as far back as Sara could remember, anyway.

"I don't know," Laurel admitted after a long moment. "Even assuming the stars aligned perfectly for me, it would be at least three years from now that I could graduate from law school and take the bar exam. I wanted - want - to be a lawyer to help people, but I don't want to wait another three years until I can actually do that. Spend three years studying and taking classes and... being too busy to do anything to actually help people in the meantime. I waited five years... I don't want to wait more."

Sara hadn't thought about it like that... but she could understand her sister's concern. But she didn't feel like it was enough for Laurel to just abandon her dream.

"Even if there's no way you can manage to get it done sooner, it's three years. Laurel, you've wanted to be a lawyer basically forever. Are you really going to abandon that dream?"

"It's not that sim-" Laurel cut herself off, and after a second, Sara realized why. There was...

"Someone on the fire escape," Laurel gave voice to her thoughts. Sara grabbed her gun and flicked off the safety, about to head for the window when her front door broke apart into pieces by a man armed with a gun that was at least three different kinds of illegal. Laurel grabbed her empty hand and pulled her down as the window was smashed open and a second attacker came through firing as well.

The Triad. Somers had sent the Triad to kill her. _Fucking awesome._ Rolling away from the couch, Sara didn't exactly climb to her feet as she pulled Laurel into the kitchen with her, giving them at least a wall's cover against the bullets.

More bullets rained around them, but by some miracle neither of them were hurt. Sara glimpsed around the doorframe and fired off three shots in quick succession at one of her attackers - shots that went right into his chest - he might live, at least for a few more minutes, but it was enough to take him down for the count. But now there was a third attacker, and Sara's throat seized up a little in fear as she realized the woman with long white hair and a knife in each hand was China White.

Sara had never seen the woman in person, but her appearance _was_ distinctive, and she was said to be the Triad's top enforcer in Starling City, the second in command of the entire local branch, really. And people didn't exactly walk away from encounters with her.

 _I'll just have to be the first._ She couldn't do anything else, not with Laurel here with her. And she had to prove her dad wrong, damnit!

Another set of shots and the second gunman was taken down, screaming and clutching at his leg just before he could enter the kitchen, but then China White was on her -

Or would have been, if Laurel didn't leap at the would-be assassin first, one of Sara's kitchen knives in each hand.

"Laurel, no!" But her sister didn't stop, and... and somehow, even though she was using kitchen knives and fighting a _trained killer_ her sister was actually holding her own and-

It was almost like watching a deadly dance, as Laurel was able to drive her elbow into the inside of China's left arm, sending one of her knives flying into the wall, and - dropping her own knives to the ground, grabbing the other woman's arm and trying to use t as leverage to flip her back and around, over onto her back -

Despite her attempt though, Laurel didn't quite manage it, and now she was blocking - effectively - China's efforts to attack her with just the one knife. Sara tried to get a shot in - while trying to figure how in the hell her sister was able to fight off her attacker. _The self-defense training dad had us take doesn't cover_ _ **this!**_

But with the two women moving so quickly, there was no way she could get her shot in without risking hitting Laurel -

It was the sound of police sirens coming that finally ended things - China pulled away from the fight, darting out of the door before Laurel could stop her.

"Laurel!" Sara dropped her gun and went over to her sister, hugging her in relief when she saw she wasn't bleeding. "Are you-"

"I'm fine," Laurel said, a little stiffly. "Are you - did they hit you?" Laurel pulled back from the hug, her hands on Sara's shoulders and looked her over.

"They didn't get me. I'm alright. Laurel, how did you- what-" a million questions bubbled up, but she couldn't ask them all. Her mind still racing, she forced herself to take a breath. "Laurel, what the hell did you think you were doing!?"

"Stopping that woman from killing you!" Laurel shot back, gesturing angrily. She winced and grabbed onto her left wrist with her right hand.

"You said you weren't hurt!"

"I said I was fine, and I am. It's nothing a little ice won't handle."

Sara shook her head, wondering how Laurel could be so blasé. "You can't just jump in - you could have been hurt! How - how were you even - how did you manage to-" Before she could finish her question, however it came out, the attacker she'd shot in the leg had pulled himself to his feet and was trying - badly - to limp/run away. Sara moved past her sister and knocked the man to the ground, pinning his arms behind him as she turned him over, ignoring his screams of pain as she pinned his injured leg with one of her own. She wasn't intentionally being brutal, but she was going to make sure this guy stayed down.

"My cuffs, by the door!" Sara gestured with her head, and her sister retrieved them and brought them back over to her. Sara took the cuffs and snapped them around the man's wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court." It was almost a matter of habit that had her reciting the Miranda warning as she cuffed the man. Only once his hands were securely bound did she pull back.

Sara was about to ask her sister to grab the first-aid kit under the sink when two police officers came into her apartment, weapons drawn. They relaxed only a little when they recognized her and saw there were no active attackers. "Detective Lance - what happened?!"

Sara pulled the man up to his knees as she stood. "I'm fine. Three attackers. This man, that one," she gestured to the one she'd shot in the chest, who looked like he was dead or close enough. Despite the seriousness of what had just happened, Sara dreaded the paperwork she'd have to do for this, even in a case of very clear-cut self-defense.

"Got it." One of the officers grabbed his radio, calling it in and requesting an ambulance. The other checked the pulse of second attacker, then confirmed aloud he was dead, before taking the cuffed man from her. Laurel handed the officer Sara's first aid kit, which he used to at least stem the flow of the man's bleeding until the ambulance could get there.

"I texted Dad. If he wasn't already on his way, he is now," Laurel said softly. "Ollie is too."

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **October 18th, 2012**

By the time their father arrived, the ambulance had come and the dead man was being taken away in a body bag. He'd come from the other side of the city as fast he could.

"Dad!" Sara hugged him tightly, and Laurel hung back, not really quite ready for a hug, though she knew he'd go in for one.

Between the cops arriving and having to give a formal statement and now their dad here, Sara hadn't been able to ask her again, how she'd been able to fight off the white-haired woman who had attacked her. And Laurel had no idea how she was going to be able to give a good answer. Luck wasn't exactly a good explanation...

She could only hope once the shock of it all wore off, Sara was just glad they made it through mostly unscathed. Laurel held the ice pack to her wrist as her father pulled away from hugging her sister.

"You're both alright?" Even though he knew the answer, he had to ask.

"We're fine... mostly," Laurel held up her wrist.

"Did they take your service weapon?" Their father asked, and Sara nodded. "Good. You have a backup? I don't want you going unarmed until we can get that bastard to flip on Somers."

"In the bedside table, like you always did," Sara nodded.

"Good girl," her father turned to Laurel and gave her a hug, which Laurel returned awkwardly - and this time she could pass it off as being because of the ice pack on her wrist. "You did good, helping Sara. But you can't do that, alright? You can't be reckless like that."

 _Yes, I can._

"I... yes dad. I just... I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," her father said softly, then turned back to Sara. "You know how this is going to go."

Sara nodded. "Administrative leave, review, at least one session with a therapist for a psych eval before I can go back to active duty." Sara took in a shuddering breath. "I killed a guy, Dad. I've shot people, been shot at... I've never killed anyone. He's dead - and... it was self-defense, he was going to kill me, kill Laurel, but I should - I should feel bad, shouldn't I? I should feel... _something?!_ "

Her father put his hands on Sara's shoulder. "You will - scum or not, self-defense or not, you killed a guy, and you will and should feel bad about it. Means you're a good person, which of course you are. But you're in shock right now. I've been where you are. Take the days off, and it's gonna suck, but really work with the therapist, alright?"

Sara nodded. Laurel looked past them to see Oliver standing outside the apartment. "Ollie!" Laurel rushed over to him, hugging him tightly and briefly before pulling back and speaking in a low murmur - and in Russian, just in case someone did overhear.

"It was Somers. He wasn't convinced by your last visit. He sent the Triad to kill my sister and he's _going_ to pay." Her voice went from a murmur to a low growl of anger at what Somers had tried to do. "You want to come along, you can, but Somers is _mine_."

"Laurel, no," Oliver replied in Russian, speaking just as quietly. "You're too angry to go after him, if you have any choice. I can handle him - right now, your sister needs you." He gestured to Sara, who was still talking to their father. "Because right now, she looks like I felt the first time after I had to kill someone. And I know I wanted more than anything to have you or mom or dad or... someone there in the aftermath. And he was an _accident_."

"I am _not_ going to just sit here after Somers sent the Triad to kill my sister! I _am_ going after him." Laurel couldn't stay... she couldn't comfort her sister, because she couldn't do that would risking revealing too much information - about how she knew what it was like to take a life... and she'd taken a lot of lives.

Most of them _not_ in self-defense.

"Laurel, you're compromised-" Oliver started to protest, but Laurel cut him off, hissing - all still in Russian.

"I don't care! And you wouldn't either if it was Thea! I'm not planning on killing him, if that's what you're worried about, but he will _wish_ I did when I'm done with him!"

Oliver inhaled sharply, "I can't stop you... and if I can't talk you out of it, then I'm not letting you do it alone. You might not care that your anger could compromise you, but I do. We can't run off right this second-"

"I know," Laurel looked back at her sister and Dad, who were embracing again. "But we can't wait for long. The Triad will clean up all loose ends, and Somers will know that. He's going to try to run."

"I'm pretty sure there's nowhere on earth Somers can run to that you wouldn't be able to catch him, but you're right - we should do our best to make sure that doesn't happen."

Laurel took Oliver's hand and went back into the apartment. They'd have to make some kind of excuse, and Laurel didn't _want_ to leave Sara alone like this... but she didn't have any choice. She couldn't stay, and she couldn't _not_ go after Somers.

The Black Canary - or the Banshee - was going to be citywide news tomorrow...but Laurel couldn't bring herself to really care.


	5. Shot Through The -Wait Poisoned Bullets?

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Arrow or any of the other CWDCTV shows.

Felicity will be showing up. She will be a character in this fic, much as she was a character in Season 1 of the show. I liked her (more or less) until season 3 (and even sometimes after, though less often), which got... messy, and she does bring useful things to the table here in Season 1, narratively speaking.

I appreciate Felicity is... a divisive character, especially among Lauriver shippers (presumably the primary readership of this fic). She certainly is for me. I'd ask you to bear with me, because I'm planning to avoid the things that (I think) went wrong with her character. Your mileage may vary, but give it a chance por favor.

I can say that there will never be Olicity, or even a hint of it. Felicity will be attracted to Oliver, as one might expect, but she'll never develop her pining crush or anything like that - one, he's very taken, and two, like any rational, normal person should, Felicity will (in this fic) see all the baggage Oliver's carrying around and not want anything to do with that. I love Oliver, but _man_ , dude. His issues have baggage and his baggage has issues.

For the curious, based on what I could tell, 'Ala'ana' has a similar usage in Arabic as 'damn' or 'damn it'' does in English. I admit I'm not an expert in Arabic or the swear words in the language, but after nearly three years in the League, where it's implied they spoke mostly Arabic on a daily basis, it made sense to me that Laurel might swear in that language, so I did a little research - not the most extensive, but I checked a few places to get some idea of what would work.

Also, for the record, fight scenes are really not my thing, so I apologize in advance if the scene at the end feels lackluster.

As always, many thanks to WillOzSummers for their beta-reading services

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 5: Shot Through The - Wait, Poisoned Bullets?

 _What seperates a Superhero from a Vigilante from a Criminal? It's an easy line to cross - and there are some, even today who believe the line begins and ends, always at Criminal. Others who consider it a miscarriage of justice that the Arrow was never brought to task for the murders he committed in his first year, even if the city officially pardoned him._

 _There's a reason that private pursuit of justice is outlawed, and historically has been - why metahumans and others that seek to fight crime with... exceptional abilities now almost always operate under the rubric of some sort of agency or taskforce, legally empowered to act within constraints._

 _And yet, history has proven, the history of the Arrow, the Black Canary, and soon after them, many others - the Flash, Frostbite, Vixen - have all proven that there is a reason for Vigilantes to act, when the law can't, or when the law simply hasn't caught up. And yet..._

 _It's not a perfect system, letting private individuals enforce their own justice. All it takes is to be wrong once too often, too late. To slip in one's rectitude. To simply realize that the rules might just not apply to you anymore... so why?_

 _There's a reason the SCPD tried so very hard to catch the 'Hood' and the 'Banshee', at first. And it wasn't just a matter of professional jealousy or trying to cater to the demands of the terrified rich of the city._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **The Glades**

 **October 19th, 2012**

"Hello Sin," Laurel landed in front of the teenager as she walked into the alley. To her credit, Sin didn't drop the soda or the bag of fast food she was carrying at the sight of a masked woman dropping down from a roof right in front of her.

Sin raised an eyebrow, "So... what, is this gonna be our thing? You drop in once a week like a druggie mom visiting the kid that's in foster care, promising rehab is working?" She scoffed and looked around, "Should I started keeping an eye out for you every time I walk into an alley now?" Unsurprisingly, Sin was throwing up walls of sarcasm and nonchalance. Somehow, Laurel suspected the teen would be annoyed if she realized just how predictable she was being.

"Well, I can't exactly just walk around the streets of the Glades dressed like this," Laurel pointed out, gesturing to the modified League uniform she wore.

Sin gave a short laugh at that and nodded. "Yeah, I guess not. You've made some waves the last week, pissed some people off, beating people up all over the Glades."

"Not 'people'. Criminals. Caught in the act, even," Laurel countered. "Parasites preying on the weak, the desperate, usually their own neighbors. They deserve what they get."

Sin gave her a weird look, "Right. Should have figured you'd be all intense, after I heard about the 'psycho bitch in black' that hit those heroin dealers, broke their arms and legs and dumped their stash in the sewer. I guess the rats had a good night though." Sin took a sip from her soda, then went on, "You do realize people want you dead now? Heard the boss of that dealer you hit has a price on the head of 'The Banshee'."

"Black Canary," Laurel corrected. Then she shrugged, "I'll have to work on that part." She'd already known that she'd have to actually tell people she attacked, or people she saved, just who she was. The Banshee was a monster of horror, something to be scared of, and nothing but. She wanted criminals to be afraid of her. But the people of the Glades? No, they couldn't be afraid of her. They needed to understand that she was on their side.

"There's a reason I haven't 'dropped in' until now," Laurel went on with a shrug. "I've been busy, and I had to make sure no one else would be around to see me talk to you." Sin couldn't become a target. "But I did keep an eye on you, even if we didn't talk." She stepped aside, to let Sin walk past her, which the teen did. Laurel walked alongside her, though.

After a few feet, though, Sin drew up short and turned to look at Laurel. "Look, I appreciate what you did, bringing me that picture, telling me... telling me about my dad. I really do." Her voice grew soft, sounding completely genuine for a moment, "It's... it's good to know that he didn't just... run out on me, like I thought he did." The sarcasm returned to her voice once more. "But I'm not looking looking for a new mom, or a big sister, or whatever the hell it is you're trying to be, so you can stop keeping an eye on me and randomly dropping in."

 _I know I'm wearing a mask, but does she really think I'm old enough to be her mother?_ Then again, when Laurel had been Sin's age, she'd thought anyone over the age of twenty-five counted as 'old', so there was that.

"How about a friend?" Laurel offered, still walking alongside Sin as the teenage runaway started walking again.

Sin scoffed, "What? The superheroine wants to be friends with some random street kid? Kinda doubt it."

"I'm not a superheroine," Laurel corrected.

"Lady, you wear a mask, have a superhero name and beat up criminals. Sounds like a superheroine to me."

"There are no such thing as superheroes. Or heroes in general, really," Laurel explained. "I'm a vigilante, and I'm trying to help the Glades, but I'm not a heroine. Heroes are a myth we tell ourselves to feel better about the world."

Sin laughed again, a bit darkly. "That's cold."

"That's reality." Laurel hoped to inspire the Glades, to be seen as the protector... but there was nothing heroic about striking from the shadows, about leaving people with multiple broken bones behind, about enacting what was essentially private justice. That was what the League did. Laurel was just doing it more geographically targeted, with less death. But it was the same.

The League of Assassins was many things, but heroic wasn't one of them.

 _And the kinds of people who could qualify as 'superheroes' are the kinds of people you don't want to ever meet._ If there was one thing she'd learned in the League, it was that power, especially magical power, came at a price. One too steep to be worth paying.

"And you want to be my friend?"

"Why not?" Laurel shrugged, "You're right, I didn't have to keep an eye on you, I didn't have to drop by a second time. I kept my word to your father and that's that. But you're not exactly rolling in friends - are you really going to be so choosy?"

Sin laughed a third time, sounding the most genuinely amused she'd been yet. "Maybe not. I guess it would be pretty badass to have some hot vigilante chick as a friend. But I'm guessing I'm not gonna get your name, or see what you look like behind the mask just yet."

Laurel smiled, "No, not yet. Maybe never. Maybe someday."

Sin said nothing for a moment as they walked in silence. "You don't kill people - no one you attacked is dead."

"I don't kill if I can help it," Laurel nodded.

"But that Robin Hood guy you were with last night, when you attacked the docks. He does. You're cool with that?"

Laurel inhaled sharply, "Not exactly." She couldn't stop Oliver - and she couldn't judge him. She understood why he was so much readier to kill - if they refused to make amends any other way, death was a viable option for Oliver's targets.

But she wasn't 'cool' with it. Maybe the cancer Oliver went after could only be cut out, but that didn't make it pretty, didn't make it something she _wanted_.

"But you worked with him anyway." Sin smirked, "What, is he your boyfriend?"

Laurel shook her head, "More like a... fellow traveller." The lie was easy, of course. "We have occasional common interests. But his goals and mine aren't the same, apart from the fact that we both want to help save Starling City."

Sin shook her head, "Maybe I called you cold too soon. Anyone who things this place can be saved..." She scoffed, "I'd say good luck, but you're trying to do the impossible."

"Maybe. But someone has to," Laurel said with a shrug. "I'll see you around. Sooner this time."

 **The Foundry**

 **October 25th, 2012**

Laurel knew the herbs would work, would cure whatever poison that was on the bullet Ollie had been grazed with, but as she stood there, watching... she felt helpless, tension tight in her muscles.

A hospital was out of the question, not when they had an option they knew would work, not when there was another option... but watching him lie there, barely breathing - but breathing - for nearly an hour was...

It wasn't hell, but you could see it from there.

 _Standing here and watching him won't get you anywhere, Laurel._ She closed her eyes and took a breath. Oliver would be fine, in the end. She knew that. She knew how good those herbs were, what they could do.

Opening her eyes again, Laurel turned back to the bloody pieces of gauze, then found the poison-testing kit. There were a number of possibilities as to what could have been on that bullet, but... poisoned bullets weren't exactly a common thing.

The League made it a point to be aware of other assassins in the world, at least the high-profile ones. The ones that made names for themselves, that no one could catch. Sometimes the League saw fit to remind other assassins just _why_ Ra's Al Ghul should always be feared the most, out of all who dealt death, and sometimes it was merely a matter of... professional interest.

The fact of the matter was, only rarely did assassins kill people who didn't, on some level, deserve it. Like James Holder. Not only would he have enemies from the friends and family of those who had died in the fires exacerbated by his defective smoke alarms, but corrupt businessmen usually worked with and against other corrupt businessmen. And there was no honor among parasites and thieves.

And there was one assassin who came to mind for Laurel. Someone who was especially known for poisoned bullets. Someone the League hadn't gone after, but it had been considered at one point, because of the man's arrogance and success.

The League didn't even know his name, just the name others had given him.

Deadshot.

And there was only one way to know for sure if this was Deadshot. Laurel selected the proper testing agent, dripped it slowly onto the bloody gauze, held at a remove by forceps, and watched as it slowly turned blue.

Curare.

"Ala'ana _"_ Laurel muttered the Arabic swear under her breath. It was him. No one else used curare on bullets.

It would take a few more hours for Oliver to recover... perhaps there was something useful she could figure out on how to find Deadshot, if he was still in the city. He was known for jobs that required multiple hits - and they wouldn't be lucky enough for them all to be men like James Holder.

And even if they were, what Deadshot delivered wasn't justice. It wasn't even retribution.

 **Queen Manor**

 **October 25th, 2012**

"You look like crap," Thea said as she walked by him, a smug look on her face. Which, given that she'd just gotten away with breaking into a store and not going to school on top of it, he wasn't surprised.

Oliver started to say something, but stopped. He'd been away from the house all night, far longer than intended, and he couldn't exactly tell his sister or mother why.

He walked over to his mother, "You're letting her play hooky?"

"When your sister gets like this, it's best to give her her space," she replied.

"She's testing you, Mrs. Queen," Laurel said, walking up beside him. "I know because she's acting exactly how Sara did at her age." And Sara too, had done her fair share of petty theft, that Quentin Lance had also brushed under the rug... though not with money and connections in the city's elite. He'd had to call in favors with judges and overworked prosecutors.

 _On the other hand, look at Sara now._ It gave him some hope that once Thea could get past this acting out, this rebellion

Even if 'getting past' losing her father and brother and only getting her brother back barely wasn't exactly a simple prospect.

"I wonder where she learned that from," his mother looked pointedly at Oliver, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurel's expression shift a little, acknowledging that she had a point.

Which she did. Oliver wouldn't deny that. Which made getting through to Thea harder, but it didn't change the fact that his mother was being far too lenient.

"Mom... when I was Thea's age, you and dad let me get away with murder. Looking back, I could have used less space, and more parenting." Oliver had made his own - terrible, in many cases - choices before the Island, as a spoiled rich kid, and he couldn't blame his parents for them.

But they hadn't taught him any notion of consequences, not really. He wasn't joking about the 'get away with murder' part either. He was quite sure they would have swept it completely under the rug if they could, had he killed someone back then.

His mother probably still would now, for that matter. Or try to.

 **Queen Steel Mill**

 **October 25th, 2012**

"So what do you think? Great spot for a nightclub, or what?" Oliver asked Tommy as he pushed the doors open.

"Sweet," Tommy said looking around. "Though, I gotta tell you man, if you're thinking about calling it Queen's, you're probably not gonna get the kind of clientele you're hoping for."

Oliver pointed up to the old floor manager's office, raised above the rest of the main area. "Private office."

"I'm guessing you and Laurel will take advantage of that every now and again," Tommy said with a laugh, and Oliver smiled slightly. Tommy walked around a moment, then looked back over at him. "You're sure you wanna do this though, man? I mean, it's not like you have any experience running - well, anything. I mean, last week you're pretty publicly turning down a spot in your family's company and now you wanna start your own business?"

Oliver let out a breath, "Working in some leadership position in the corporate world and running a nightclub are two different things," he pointed out. "Taking that position would have been a stepping stone to becoming CEO in a few years, as far as Mom would have been concerned..." He shook his head. "But, I think I've been in and out of enough nightclubs and parties to at least be able to have a chance at running one myself."

Tommy chuckled, "There is that. Still, it has been five years since you've been a regular on the club scene," he pointed out, and Oliver nodded. "So tonight, why don't we go to the hottest new club in town, scope out the competition? Max Fuller has this new place, Poison-"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Max Fuller?" Tommy nodded. "Tommy, I slept with his fiance." That one, at least, had been before he and Laurel had been dating, but he was pretty sure Fuller hadn't forgiven him before he'd gotten onto the _Queen's Gambit_... and he doubted Fuller would have forgiven him yet.

"Yeah, before the wedding," Tommy said, sounding dismissive.

"It was at the rehearsal dinner," Oliver pointed out, and Tommy nodded.

"Yeah, and the rehearsal dinner is technically before the wedding. Besides, who stays mad at a castaway? Even Laurel's dad doesn't hate you anymore."

"I think that's more because Laurel told him to cut it out, and he's just happy she's back so he'll take it. I'm sure he's still convinced I'm not good enough for her."

Tommy laughed, "If there's one thing I'm pretty sure about, it's that Detective Lance doesn't think _anyone_ is good enough for Laurel. Or Sara, for that matter." Oliver raised an eyebrow at Tommy's words, wondering if he was suggesting anything, then Tommy laughed, "No, no. Not that Sara isn't hot or a great person in general, but she's not really my type." His voice got a little maudlin, though just a touch.

"We just... you know... spent a lot of time together, the first couple years after you and Laurel 'died'. Mourning, commiserating. Getting way too drunk together, a few times. Detective Lance was _convinced_ we were together, and that I'd get her killed the way he thought you'd..." Tommy trailed off a little, and Oliver realized he'd let his expression harden and he forced himself to relax a little. "I mean, he didn't clean his gun in front of me, but he made sure it was quite visible when he told me to stay away from Sara."

"I'm sorry, Tommy," Oliver said softly, and Tommy shook his head,

"Enough with the sad shit man. You're not dead, and tonight, you and I are going clubbing. No argument," he added, before Oliver could say anything. "It's been years, I'm sure Fuller's not gonna still be angry at you." Before he could say anything else, Tommy's phone rang and he took a look at the caller ID. "Alright, I've got to roll. I'll see you at Poison. Good place." As he walked away, Oliver looked over at Diggle, who had watched and listened to the whole exchange without any reaction.

"So... what do you think?" He was increasingly sure that if he phrased it right, presented it right, he'd be able to convince Diggle to help Laurel and him in their efforts to save this city. Thanks to his previous 'working relationship' with ARGUS, he still had (limited) access to their network and files, and that included files on John Diggle, the kind of man he was, the kind of soldier he'd been. Diggle was a native of Starling City, a man who'd served three tours not just because he was good at it, but because he was the kind of man who was more than willing to put his life on the line for a cause greater than himself, if it meant helping protect people.

Now it was just a matter of slowly getting to be sure with Diggle, and talk him around to helping, to showing him what Oliver was trying to do, what Laurel was trying to do. How to save this city. _Sooner or later, he's going to put all the pieces together._ Diggle had probably already filled out parts of the puzzle as it was.

"I'm here to provide security, sir, not commentary," the veteran replied with a shrug.

"Do me a favor, Diggle, speak freely," Oliver insisted. "What do you think?"

Diggle looked around the room a moment, "Well, this is the Glades. Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet." The man wasn't entirely wrong, unfortunately. But there _were_ advantages to his name.

"I'm Oliver Queen. I mean, it's been five years, but I used to be a big deal on the party scene," Oliver pointed out. "You don't think people wouldn't stand in line for hours if I opened a club?"

"And no one who actually lives in the Glades would actually see a penny of those cover charges," Diggle pointed out, but at least he was willing to concede the first point.

"As it stands, no one who actually lives in the Glades is seeing a penny out of this place," Oliver pointed out, gesturing all around him. "But if there's a thriving club, a successful business... I mean, I did flunk out of a lot of business classes in the four colleges I went to, but I learned a few things - money comes where there's money. So if the club takes off.." he shrugged, "it gentrifies the neighborhood."

"I was wondering when we'd get to that," Diggle replied, his tone almost but not quite remaining respectful. "The white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised? All by his lonesome, with no help from anybody." _Not alone, and not without help. Would he rather I do nothing?_ Oliver was rich, his family was rich... and they'd made their money on helping ruin this city, at least to a great extent. His father wasn't as bad as the men on the list, and he at least had felt guilt about what he'd done, but he'd hurt this city.

"Wow. You don't think much of me, do you?"

"No, actually sir, I have a very high regard for how... perceptive you are," Diggle replied with a slight smirk playing across his face for a moment.

Ultimately, his aim for the club was merely a cover, for what he was really doing. But Oliver did have _some_ hope it could help the city in other ways. Once he was done with the list... if it was ever possible to be...

Well, it would be nice to have something he could be doing that _wasn't_ more killing.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **October 25th, 2012**

Sara had served her administrative leave, seen a therapist and was now back to work. She'd had a few... brief nightmares about killing that man, the would-be assassin, but thankfully just that much.

Her dad had been right - she had been numb, those first few hours after killing him, and then it had all really hit her. At the same time, he'd been there to kill her, kill her sister, on the orders of Somers, working for the Triad. If she'd died, Sara doubted that she'd have been his first kill.

Didn't make it any easier, but at least it meant that it wasn't getting any worse. And now she was back on the job, doing more paperwork to close out a small case, getting ready in case she was called to testify at Somers' trial. She didn't think she would, but it was possible the DA or Somers' legal team might try it.

Of course, with his confession on record thanks to the two vigilantes - who the media were now calling 'The Hood' and 'The Banshee'- , and the testimony of the surviving assassin, Somers' legal team didn't have much chance of getting their client off.

Thank god.

 _How did Laurel do it?_ Sara kept thinking back to that night, the way Laurel had taken on _China White_ , a woman who, according to the FBI and Interpol, was apparently even more deadly than she'd heard. She'd tried to ask her sister, but every time she'd been about to vocalize the question, something would come up, for her or for Laurel.

And Laurel's excuses were comparatively thin.

 _Was she really alone on that island, all five years, just Oliver?_ Sara had looked at pictures of her sister's scars, and apparently Oliver's were as bad, or worse. Could all those injuries _really_ happen just from surviving alone on an island, just the two of them?

Before she could let those thoughts meander anymore, her father approached her desk. "Sara, I need a favor."

"Since when do you need to ask your daughter for a favor?" Sara asked, smiling. "How's your case going? Detective Hilton finally accepting that the Hood didn't kill Holder?" She agreed with her father that it seemed hard to believe that the archer would have suddenly switched to a sniper rifle, especially at the same time as using arrows. There had to be a second player. What Sara wondered was if the assassin was working with or against the vigilante.

 _I know dad would give me a lot of grief if I said this, but he almost seems like he's trying to help._ With Hunt, with Somers, with almost everyone he'd gone after, he gave them a chance before coming at them a second time.

But he'd also put a lot of men in the hospital and in the morgue - guards, and the ones that hadn't done what he demanded they do to make up for their actions.

Murder was murder, that much she agreed with her father on. Extrajudicial execution wasn't okay. Private justice was wrong.

 _And yet, he did something the official justice system couldn't - bring down Martin Somers._

"Well, not just Holder now. Carl Rasmussen is dead too. Same guy - and yeah, not the Hood. Some sniper with poison bullets. Right through the heart for both of them. They have something in common too - both were bidding on some company that's going to auction tomorrow: Unidac Industries. Which brings me around to the favor - one of the other people doing the bidding is Walter Steele."

Sara blinked, "You think he's behind it?"

Quentin shook his head, "I don't really think so, though he's gotta be a suspect. But given how I've treated his wife and her family the last five years, I don't think he's going to be super-receptive to me showing up to ask him questions about it all. You on the other hand..."

"Didn't spend five years blaming Moira Queen for Laurel's death?" Sara finished for him.

"Yeah... that. I meant what I said when I apologized for everything..." he shook his head, "But I'm not sure five years of thinly veiled harassment that could have probably cost me my badge if I'd went any further just goes away like that." He snapped his fingers.

Sara nodded. She understood where her dad was going. "I'll let them know what's going on... maybe they'll have some idea as to which buyer is doing it."

"I'll take that much if I can get it. Hilton and me - we'll be going around to the other buyers, but it would probably work better if you talked to Steele."

 **Queen Manor**

 **October 25th, 2012**

"Sara," Moira Queen said, giving her a hug as she walked into the foyer. "What a pleasant surprise." Sara returned the hug and Moira stepped back a moment later. "I heard about what happened last week... are you alright?"

"As good as I can be," Sara nodded. "I heard about what happened with Thea."

Moira frowned, "She's been acting out for years but... I never expected her to go this far. I know you've tried to reach out to her..."

"I've tried, to not much affect. But she's only seventeen Moira. When I was her age... well, I was as bad as her, maybe worse. If Dad hadn't called in favors, I'd have landed myself in juvie or worse." She shrugged, "I mean, she shouldn't have her life ruined because she got drunk and made a mistake... even if she shouldn't be having alcohol for another four years."

"The fact that you grew up to be a Detective does give me hope that she'll grow out of this phase, but in the meantime..." Moira shrugged, "I don't know how to talk to her, how to make her understand."

"I can try to talk to her again, if you want?" Sara offered. "But actually, I'm here for work-related reasons. Is Walter here?"

Moira raised an eyebrow, "He is - should I be concerned? Do I need to call our-"

"The SCPD has some reason to believe his life might be in danger," Sara admitted, and Moira paled a little, going tense. She held up a hand, "Unidac Industries - that company he's bidding on?" Moira nodded, "James Holder and Carl Rasmussen were both bidding on it as well, and they're dead now..."

"Oh god... I'd heard about Holder, but Carl?" Moira let out a shaky breath. "What is _happening_ in this city?"

 **The Foundry**

 **October 26th, 2012**

Thanks to what Laurel had known about their sniper 'Deadshot', Oliver had gone to to the Bratva, and sure enough, they'd had a location for their sniper.

Unfortunately, the man had gotten away, and the laptop he'd been using was too damaged for any files to be recovered.

"Working with ARGUS gave me _some_ hacking skills, but this... this isn't something I can work with," Oliver said, frowning. "And I doubt the League taught you anything that would help us with this."

"You'd be surprised how modern the League is willing to be, when it benefits them," Laurel replied. "But no, I was never given any tech lessons." She swore again in Arabic, a habit she'd picked up in the League.

"I have an idea. We talked about more people, and we've talked about Diggle, but I've been doing some digging into the IT and Tech people at Queen Consolidated - the ones in the home office here in Starling City, anyway." He pulled up the file. "This one caught my eye - Felicity Smoak."

Laurel looked at the screen. "Pretty. High aptitude test results for computers, High IQ... and persistently stuck in a Mid-level IT position because of persistent foot in mouth syndrome." She looked over at Oliver. "Why her in particular? She could probably pull the files, but so could a lot of people at QC... and even as the son of Robert Queen, you can't just bring around a laptop full of bullet holes without raising red flags with someone."

"There's a bit more to it - when Miss Smoak was in college, her boyfriend was arrested for trying to hack and wipe student loan records. And ARGUS flagged her as a possible threat around that time, but since she doesn't seem to have done anything _since_ , they've left her alone." Oliver explained his theory about what happened, based on the ARGUS information he had access to - Felicity's boyfriend had probably had help designing the code that was used for the hack, but at some point, Felicity had clearly decided she wasn't interested in something so blatantly criminal.

Probably one of the hackers who did it as a challenge, rather than really trying to change the world or promote some sort of agenda.

But she also had not testified against him. So though she had moral compass, so it seemed, she also didn't seem likely to just go to the cops and tell them everything.

"Besides, I _am_ Robert Queen's son. People at QC probably won't want to ask a whole lot of questions. And if she decides to make a big deal out of this... well, then she's not a viable candidate. But it would be good to have someone who is better with computers onboard, eventually."

Laurel nodded but then she added, "If she ends up _not_ being onboard with everything, if you eventually tell her, we'll find another option than killing her." Oliver nodded at her words. He'd figured she'd raise that point, and while he knew it would be risky, there would be other options, if it came to that.

"Of course not." Killing was... simpler, but he didn't like it. And Felicity Smoak really didn't seem like she deserved it. "It'll take some time, but we can test her, see how suspicious she starts to get, and what she does with those suspicions."

"And if nothing else, you can probably use that patented Oliver Queen charm," Laurel said almost teasingly.

 **Queen Consolidated HQ, IT Department**

 **October 26th, 2012**

Oliver hadn't even really tried to be particularly clever with his lies. A spilled latte, and a coffee shop in a bad neighborhood were obvious lies that would make Felicity Smoak wonder, and give Oliver a chance to see what she did with it. Would she try to dig into him? Alert the police? Alert someone else?

Or would she just accept the lie because she didn't want anything else to do with it?

So far, she seemed to be of a mind to just... ignore the weirdness. It had taken her nearly an hour to extract the information she could from the laptop into something resembling a usable form, but now she did have it.

He didn't even find her babbling all that annoying - it was just a quirk, and a lot less murderous or dangerous than some people's quirks.

"Looks like blueprints," Felicity said, as the information displayed on her screen.

"Do you know what of?" He didn't recognize them off-hand...

Felicity nodded, "The Exchange Building." She looked over at him, obviously expecting some sort of recognition, and went on, "It's where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place." Once more she expected him to know the name.

"I thought... you said this was _your_ laptop," she managed to keep her tone surprisingly level.

"Yes," Oliver lied blandly, shaking his head.

Felicity shook her head, "Look, I don't wanna get in the middle of some Shakespearean family drama thing."

Oliver blinked. What did some dead guy who wrote plays have to do with anything?

"What?"

"Mr. Steele marrying your mom. Claudius, Gertrude... Hamlet?"

"I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools I dropped out of," Oliver explained. The Odyssey on the other hand...

Felicity stared at him for a moment, as if stunned at the very notion - which she probably was, most people who dropped out of college settled for dropping out of just the one - then blinked, took a breath and started to explain.

"Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries. There's an auction tonight - and you've got a company laptop associated with one of the guy's he's competing against to get it."

Oliver nodded, "Floyd Lawton."

"No." She pointed to the screen, and he saw the name she was pointing at. "Warren Patel. Who's Floyd Lawton?"

 _And now we have the man behind the sniper._ "He is... an employee, of Mr. Patel, evidently." He turned to look at her. "Can you copy all this onto a drive?" Felicity nodded. "And... I'd really appreciate it if you didn't talk about this with anyone."

Felicity held up a hand. "Like I said, I don't want anything to do with whatever's going on, Shakespearean or otherwise.

 **The Exchange Building**

 **October 26th, 2012**

"Looks like my dad took your warning seriously," Laurel said as she looked at the cops in the main room - and there were more on the perimeter, she knew.

"He is a good cop," Oliver nodded. "His obsession with putting me behind bars notwithstanding." They were at a remove from most of the gathering for now, speaking quietly and at least at the moment, there was no one around who could hear them."

"And everything went fine with Felicity Smoak? Or do we need contingencies?" Laurel had a few ideas. The simplest would be to find some way to frame Felicity for a crime - nothing too serious, but something that would detract from her credibility and take her out of circulation for a year or two, in some minimum security white-collar crime prison. That idea had its downsides, but it was better than killing her for the crime of wanting to obey the law. If it came to that.

"Fine, she said something about not wanting to get involved in 'Shakespearean family drama', so I think she'll leave it alone." _Shakespearean family drama?_ Laurel's confusion must have shown on her face, because Oliver went on. "I have no idea what she was talking about either - she mentioned something about a Claudius, Gertude and Hamlet? And that related to Walter marrying my mom." He shrugged.

Realization dawned on Laurel, and she chuckled, "I suppose you having one of Walter's competitor's laptops could look like that." She explained the play to him, quickly, " _Hamlet_ is one of Shakespeare's plays - the prince character is Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark, and he's come home from education abroad to find his father dead, and his mother remarried to his uncle. He finds out his uncle killed his father and swears to avenge him. It's a whole thing, and it's honestly not one of my favorites, even if lots of people consider it one of Shakespeare's best works."

Which she really didn't get. Even as far as the tragedies went, Laurel prefered _King Lear_ or _Macbeth_.

"Ah," Oliver said at least somewhat understanding. He looked around, "Lawton will have to get started soon, or it's going to be too late."

"On the off chance we're lucky, maybe he's decided this is too much heat," she couldn't even pretend to believe that though. Lawton's reputation, both from Oliver's partial ARGUS access and the stories of Deadshot she'd picked up from the League, made it clear he didn't quit jobs, he didn't walk away as long as the money was still good.

 **Tower Near Exchange Building**

 **October 26th, 2012**

It was only thanks to Detective Lance that Walter didn't get shot, but that still left Lawton. It was amazing how quickly someone could gear up when they needed to do it in a hurry, on the move, but it still cost precious time to get to the tower where Lawton was firing from as he rode a chain attached to an arrow across the distance, crashing in through the window. Moments later, Laurel arrived, right behind him...

And then they were both splitting apart, diving for cover as Lawton started to shoot them with his wrist mounted machine gun. He shot wildly, less concerned with actually hitting either of them and more keeping them from coming at him. To keep Oliver from being able to actually _aim_.

Then the bullets stopped, and they were all three moving in the dim shadows of the room, waiting for the opening to attack the other without getting exposed. Lawton had a trump card in the form of his poisoned bullets - because even his machine gun bullets probably would be laced with curare.

 _It's what I would do in his place._ All it would take was one shot. Which meant neither of them could take the kinds of risks they were usually willing to take against armed opponents.

Oliver caught Laurel's eye and jerked his head to the left meaningfully. She shook her head, making a cutting gesture with her hand and holding up her sonic device. Oliver nodded, getting ready - even with the protective ear equipment, it wasn't _pleasant_ to hear that thing go off.

Laurel turned the device on standby, dropped into a crouch, and tossed it, rolling backwards at the same time as a hail of bullets connected with where she'd been moments later. Lawton staggered back as the scream pierced through the air, all the windows shattering - the assassin covered his ears, doubling over - but only for a moment.

That moment was all Oliver needed though. As Laurel started around the perimeter of the room, ready to come at Lawton from behind, Oliver came at the man, hitting him from behind and sending him sprawling. Lawton got back to his feet and the hand-to-hand fight was on. Oliver managed to knock Lawton's wrist-gun off in the fight, sending it skittering across the ground.

"I did my research before I came to this city," Lawton said, ducking under a punch. "Heard about you, about your Banshee friend. Came prepared," He gestured to the earpiece he'd put on while under the effects of Laurel's device. Lawton's next blow connected with Oliver's chest, sending him staggering back a pace. "You know, I really admire your work. Can't you extend me some professional courtesy?"

"We're not in the same line of work," Oliver growled.

"You kill people, I kill people... your girlfriend on the other hand-" Lawton dove to the right, spun around and made to kick Laurel's feet out from under her before she could attack him - she sidestepped his attack easily, but then Lawton grabbed his gun. He started firing, but now Oliver dove, Laurel came at him from behind, a tonfa connecting with his wrist, _hard_ \- there was a sickening crack as the bones broke. To his credit, Lawton made no sound of pain beyond a low grunt - before he could start firing again, Oliver pulled a bow from his arrow and fired - right in the man's neck. WIth a spurt of blood and a strangled, gurgling sound, Lawton fell to the ground.

He was about to approach the man, make _absolutely sure_ , he was dead, when Laurel's eyes widened, Oliver heard a pained gasp from behind him, and he turned to look at the source.

Diggle, clutching at his lower torso, blood spreading past his fingers.

As Oliver rushed for the man, he knew the best chance for his 'bodyguard' was the Foundry. There was no way to get to a hospital and get him treated as quickly as the herbs there, from Lian Yu, could...

 _I guess we'll find out where Diggle stands on the Hood._


	6. Expanding the Roster

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow.

I apologize for the delay - my writing process has a lot of advantages for me, in terms of my life situation, but the great weakness I can't do away with completely is that when it stalls out, it stalls out _hard_. On the plus side, when it isn't stalled, it moves pretty quick, overall, and takes a few months between stallings, so expect at least 4-5 chapters, possibly even many more, before another few month break, which is probably unavoidable eventually.

I hate my job. Anyway,

I skipped over several scenes from the show that are essential to the plot of the episode itself, but I make it a general rule only to include scenes originally from the show if they happen significantly differently than in the show, or if they are essential to the chapter itself. Ideally, I've done a good job keeping you clear on what's going on where, but re-reading a summary of the episode should help if you get lost.

Thanks to WillOzSummers for beta-reading.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 6: Expanding the Roster

 _One might ask why I'm writing this - and given my relation to the subjects of my historical interest here, can I even be objective? The answer to the latter, of course, is no. There's no way any historian can be truly objective - one must simply be aware of and honest about their biases, and try their best to contain them._

 _As for why... this story needs to be told, and I'm in a unique position to tell that story. I may have never spoken with Oliver Queen or Laurel Lance, but unlike in most families, the stories told about the exploits of past forebears around the table at Queen family reunions are all completely true._

-Excerpt from the Foreword of "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD. Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **The Foundry**

 **October 26th, 2012**

It had taken longer than Oliver would have liked for Diggle to wake up, but curare could do a number on the body, as he'd experienced all too well, and that medicine... well, it wasn't the most pleasant of things to experience, at the end of the day, to put it mildly. So they waited.

"You don't have to be here when he wakes up," Oliver said to Laurel, who was standing next to him. She was, like him, still in her vigilante outfit, bar the mask and hood, leaning back against the table, hands crossed in front of her chest. "There's no point him seeing both our faces if he decides he wants to go to the cops." Not that Oliver thought Diggle would, but still.

"He's not an idiot. We've both been prone to disappearing at around the same times, and if you're the Hood, it's pretty obvious I'm 'the Banshee', now isn't it?" Laurel pointed out, shaking her head.

Oliver nodded. That was true - which could cause them problems when Quentin or one of the other detectives in the SCPD got the footage of him 'finding' the vigilante's costume, but since it was Quentin's case, he'd do everything to avoid that obvious conclusion.

 _Though given that he_ _ **does**_ _seem to be kind of accepting of me now..._ that could actually make the plan harder to execute. But probably not, at the end of the day.

Before he could say anything else, Diggle started to stir, forcing himself up into a sitting position on the table, his face damp with cold sweat, moving slowly, probably still disoriented.

"Hey," Oliver said. Diggle finished sitting up and looked across at him, sounding surprisingly incredulous:

"Oliver?" He paused, trying to stand up, hands still stabilizing himself on the other table he'd just been on. "You're that vigilante, the one shooting everyone..." He looked to Oliver's left, saw Laurel there. "And you're the one that's been in the Glades... the Hood and the Banshee..." he lunged at them, trying to punch them both, but his attack was sidestepped with ease, and all Diggle accomplished was nearly falling to the ground before grabbing the table.

"Easy, Dig, you were poisoned," Oliver started, trying to calm the man down, but all he got was another easily dodged punch and an angry 'son of a bitch' from Diggle. Oliver caught him this time, then shoved him very lightly to the side, letting the bodyguard catch himself on the table.

"We could have taken you anywhere - home, a hospital... we chose to take you here for a reason," Oliver started.

"You two really did lose your minds on that island," Diggle half-growled, apparently deciding against lunging a third time.

Laurel shook her head, "We didn't lose anything. We just found things, instead."

"Like what? Archery lessons? Tonfa fighting techniques?" He gestured to the weapons on Laurel's belt.

"Clarity," Oliver replied. "Starling City... is dying. It has been for years. It's been poisoned by an uncaring, criminal elite more focused on themselves than the people who suffer... and those people are left alone and forced to prey on each other by everyone else consumed in their own apathy." The List was his fight, his focus, but Laurel's fight in the Glades would be ultimately as important for saving Starling City in the long run. She would give them hope, just as he tore away their sources of despair.

It was something he'd never have been able to do.

"And what are you two going to do? Save the city yourselves, single-handedly?" Diggle scoffed, though the effect was ruined by his still present disorientation. It would pass soon.

"No. For one, I was hoping you'd help us. Make it three," Oliver started. "And this is more than that... this isn't about just killing them, but bringing them to justice, righting the wrongs they've done to this city. The wrongs my father did to this city... remove the parasites feeding on this city and show everyone else what will happen if they try to do the same."

"And it's giving people hope again," Laurel added. "Hope that there is justice in the world, that they can have their city back. Show people their own power. You're special forces out of Kandahar," she went on. 'It's perfect - you know what it's like to fight in a war. You understand what we're trying to do."

"You're not fighting a war," Diggle replied, sounding almost disgusted. "You're not soldiers. You're criminals." Oliver watched as Diggle looked at him head on. "You're a murderer, and you-" he looked over to her. "You're abetting him in all of it." Oliver saw Laurel flinch - not in a way anyone else would have noticed, but he knew her well enough - just a tiny bit at Diggle's accusation, before the other man half-limped out of the basement.

When he was gone, Oliver allowed himself a small smile. "Well. That went better than I expected... worse than I'd hoped." He looked over at Laurel. "What do you think?"

"I don't think he's going to sell us out, but I'm not so sure that he'll join up..." Laurel trailed off, shaking her head.

"No, he'll come around," Oliver said with certainty. He'd read Diggle right. He could get him to sign on.

 **Queen Mansion**

 **October 26th, 2012**

"Where have you two been?!" His mother demanded of them as they entered the mansion. "It's been _hours_ since the shooting and all you did was send a text message saying you were okay. A _text_ message!"

Oliver didn't - couldn't - say anything that would explain it. He'd been so focused on getting Diggle to the Foundry, then on his recovery and recruitment, he hadn't even thought about his mother and sister and even Walter not knowing where he was or if he was okay. The text had been Laurel's doing, borrowing his phone without him even realizing it and sending it off. _I can't demand that she cover for me with my family like that..._

"Mom... I-" He paused for a moment, then, "I'm sorry." There wasn't anything else he could really say. "When - when the bullets started firing... I panicked... I wasn't thinking. I just ran."

His mother's expression softened a little. Just a little. "Oliver... I just want to know you're okay. I don't need to know everything you're doing, but you are my son, and I care about your well-being. Especially after a mad shooter tries to kill my husband!"

"It won't happen again," Oliver promised.

 **The Foundry**

 **October 27th, 2012**

"Jason Brodeur. I don't know why he had Camille Declan murdered, but that has to be what happened," Oliver said firmly. "He's on the list - I don't think this Peter Declan did it."

"Going after a guy on the list, fine," Laurel replied, wiping down her brow and taking a sip of water, "but you can't be sure that Peter Declan is innocent. People do murder their spouses... Just because she worked for someone on your father's list doesn't mean he killed her and set her husband up."

"Given how completely open and shut the case is?" Oliver shook his head. "If I didn't have a reason to suspect Brodeur, sure, it seems simple. But given the list... it has to be a frame up. It's too tidy."

Laurel laughed, "That's not actually how crime works, but you're probably right. You need proof though, especially if you want to save Peter Declan's life. What we did with Somers won't work this time - Declan is being executed in a little over 48 hours. Any confession you get from Brodeur is going to have to be impeccable. Or you need something else to work with. If there _is_ something else. Why might Brodeur kill her?"

Oliver pulled up a news report on the computer: "Jason Brodeur was investigated for toxic dumping a few months before Camille Declan was killed. He was found in full compliance with all law and regulations. What if he wasn't? And what if Camille Declan found out? She was in the right department of his company to find out."

Laurel looked the report over - it was some business news website, talking about how Brodeur's stock prices had gone up after he passed inspection. If Camille Declan _was_ going to blow the whistle, he'd have to kill her or risk his entire company. _And the list hasn't been wrong yet, now has it?_

No, it hadn't. Laurel didn't know _why_ Robert Queen had assembled the list, but she could guess - blackmail, probably. By Oliver's own words, his father had said he'd helped to ruin Starling City, had helped to poison it. He might have been better than some of the others on this list, but...

If he'd known about these men's... extracurricular ways of making money or protecting their assets, then he could have used that. Would have, if he was even partially shady. And she'd heard rumors about Robert Queen, for years before the Queen's Gambit. Rumors Oliver had always ignored or dismissed or just didn't notice, but...

 _Well, smoke and fire, right?_

Given all that, given the inspection...

"You'll need proof in case you can't get Brodeur to confess. But you don't even know where to begin to get that proof," Laurel pointed out. _But..._ well, this was a chance for Laurel to start something she'd been planning on, ever since she'd learned Sara was a detective. She wished her sister wasn't in the line of fire like that, taking such a dangerous job.

 _But now that she is, I need to make sure I can watch over her better, give her a line of communication to the Black Canary._ And, she hoped, to tell Sara the truth.

She hadn't broached that part with Oliver yet. He'd be against it - against telling their families the truth, sharing their identities. Which made sense for him - his sister, his mother and stepfather... they weren't cops, combating crime and, in the case of her father, leading the investigation into finding the vigilantes!

She would have to eventually, but not yet. This was groundwork.

"Why do I get the feeling that you have an idea about that?"

"I do. I can approach Sara -" She held up a hand before he could object, "I'll borrow your voice modulator. She's a detective, but she still has that rebellious streak she had growing up. You remember." She couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of her sister's antics - even if they hadn't been funny at the time.

"I do. And you think she'll work with a vigilante because of it?"

"She was running an off the books investigation of Martin Somers. And based on some things Dad has said, and a few other things I've heard, that's far from the first time. She cares about justice more than the law. I can get her to look at the Camille Declan case file, see if there's a stone unturned we can work with. I'll talk to her tonight, and you handle the Glades for me." She gestured to his bow, "Maybe don't bring the bow."

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **October 27th, 2012**

Long hours rarely afforded Sara the chance to date, and even when she had free time, what Sara usually wanted was to just have some time to herself, read a book or watch TV, and otherwise, just... unwind. Right now, there was a show on Netflix that had her name on it for some quality binge-watching.

She opened the door, reached for the light switch and then...

And then that light switch didn't work.

Sara pulled out her pistol, slowly walking into the living room. "You picked the wrong place to rob," she called out. "Show yourself and surrender now, and I won't shoot." She _hoped_ it was just an idiot robber, but the lights being cut kind of belied that notion. She started to reach for her phone, then turned suddenly towards the window at the sound of movement.

Standing over by the open window - a window she did not remember _leaving_ open - was a woman. She wore a black coat of some kind - it was hard to make out details, as her breaking and entering guest was staying in shadows. Her coat was hooded, and she compounded that with a mask that covered most of her face, leaving only her eyes and nose free.

At the woman's belt hung two metal sticks... exactly the weapons, in exactly the outfit that the other vigilante - the one with the lower profile, that had stuck to the Glades apart from that one time going after Martin Somers with The Hood - was known to use. Sara heard the stories picked up from criminals and locals in the Glades. They called her the Banshee, because she had some kind of _thing_ that made some sort of painful high-pitched noise.

"Hello, Detective," the woman said, her voice deep and distorted. _Voice modulator._ She held up her hands, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"You're the one they're calling the Banshee," Sara said, not lowering her weapon at all. _She's only gone after criminals... she helped bring down Somers..._ But she was also breaking the law. Assault, battery, trespassing... maybe not murder, but if she was working with The Hood, even a little, she was aiding and abetting him in that.

 _He's only killed people who deserved it - hell, The Banshee helped kill those bastards who tried to kidnap Oliver, Laurel and Tommy_...

 _But murder is still murder..._

Sara knew she should demand the woman surrender, arrest her, bring her in - call for backup, _something._

But she didn't. Not yet.

"That's not my name. I'm the Black Canary," the vigilante replied, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to say. "But yes. That's me. But like I said," she kept her hands up, taking a step towards Sara, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then you won't mind staying right there," Sara said. "What the hell are you doing here, in _my_ apartment? What the hell did you do to my electricity? I should be arresting you right now."

"It's just an interrupter. Your power will be fine when I leave," the woman - the Black Canary - replied. "As for arresting me... well, you could _try_." _Well, there is that._ It wasn't like they'd arrested the Hood, and this Black Canary was reportedly just as good. Sara took the chance to look over the woman. It was hard to make out details, but the outfit was somewhat form fitting, while looking like it might actually be practical as well... and her pants were tight-looking.

 _She's hot,_ a base part of Sara said, unprompted. Sara couldn't deny it, but she didn't let herself focus on that. Hard not to notice it. Hard to ignore. _Down girl!_ Yes, the woman was hot, and Sara could only imagine how muscular the Black Canary might be under that-

 _Goddamnit Sara!_ Mentally, Sara slapped herself.

"As for what I'm doing here, I need your help," The Black Canary said.

"You're a criminal, and you're asking _me_ for help." Sara scoffed. "Right. And I'm just going to give it to you."

"We both want the same thing, Sara," the vigilante said, calmly. "Justice for the people of Starling City. You're willing to bend the rules to get that. I just bend them more than you."

"You send people to the emergency room on a regular basis, from what I've heard, and you're working with a murderer. You _break_ the rules."

"Maybe. But that means I can do things the police won't or can't. I can help people the system has failed. People like Peter Declan."

Sara blinked, taking a moment to place the name. "Peter Declan? The guy who killed his wife four years ago? He's guilty." _But if she's bringing him up..._

The Hood hadn't made any mistakes yet, now had he? And neither had this woman. And...

 _They brought Martin Somers down. If it hadn't been for them, he could have gotten away. Or his lawyers could have even gotten him off, even with the possibility of the assassin flipping on him..._

They had done something the police couldn't do, and they'd dealt out justice for Victor Nocenti.

"He might not be. His wife worked for Jason Brodeur - exactly the sort of man who could and would have someone killed to protect his money. I think Camille Declan was going to blow the whistle on him for dumping toxic waste into the water. I just need a lead. Some stone the police didn't turn over. We have just under 48 hours to save his life." The Black Canary slowly started to lower one hand. "I'm going to take out a phone," she declared carefully. Sara kept her gun ready, finger on the trigger, as the vigilante reached into her coat and pulled out... a phone, which she tossed lightly onto Sara's couch.

"I haven't even said I'm agreeing to do anything for you."

"You can turn that over to your tech people. They won't get anything useful off of it. It's too encrypted. If you decide you want to help me, the number is programmed in." Before Sara could react, the vigilante had slipped out the window, onto the firescape, and then... gone.

Sara raced to the window, looking down, trying to get a glimpse of the escaping vigilante, but...

There was no sign of her. Sara let out a deep breath, turning around, pulling away from the window.

Her eyes fell onto the phone the Black Canary had left her.

 _There's really only one thing I can do with it._ She couldn't give it to her dad, to the rest of the police.

 _I... I trust her._

Sara didn't know why, but she did.

 **The Foundry**

 **October 28th, 2012**

"Hello, Sara," Laurel said, knowing the phone itself would disguise her voice. "If you're tracing this call-"

"No, I'm not." Sara said quickly, and Laurel held back a sigh of relief. _Thank god._ She knew when Sara lied, and this wasn't it. She knew Sara... but it had been five years.

 _But she's still Sara, at the end of the day._

"I looked into the file on the Declan case," Sara went on. "According to Peter Declan, on the day of the murder, Camille Declan went to her supervisor about the company dumping toxic waste. But the supervisor, Matt Istook, told the police - and testified in court, it looks like - that he didn't talk to or see Camille at all that day."

"You'd think Peter Declan would have a better lie, if he was the one who killed his wife," Laurel pointed out, already searching for the man's address and plate number on the computer. _Thank you, ARGUS._ Laurel didn't know why ARGUS had decided to let Oliver keep a limited access to their systems, but she wasn't about to complain one way or the other.

"When you have fingerprints, blood, motive and the murder weapon, it's easy to imagine someone spinning a desperate lie," Sara pointed out. "But if there is something else to this, if Camille Declan really was going to blow the whistle..."

"Then that means Matt Istook lied," Laurel concluded. "Which means someone needs to pay him a visit."

"I don't need to know," Sara said quickly. "I'm breaking the law enough as it is," she took a deep breath, then, "God, I can't believe I'm saying this... but - if Istook does give you anything concrete... there's a defense attorney that owes me a favor. She's good. She might be able to help... delay the execution, at least. Or _something._ "

"I'll be in touch. Keep this phone handy," Laurel replied, hanging up, and texting the name and address to Oliver.

 **Queen Mansion**

 **October 30th, 2012**

When Laurel had gotten Istook's name, Oliver had hoped that would be enough - he'd gotten the file from Istook, he'd delivered it to where Laurel told Sara to get it...

And the courts had said it wasn't enough. Not enough to stop the execution, not that late in the process. So he'd taken a more direct route - gone straight for Brodeur.

It had nearly been too late - but Brodeur had told him about the man going to the prison to kill Declan for good in the midst of a prearranged prison riot.

Oliver had to rush to Iron Heights, break in, subdue a guard and borrow his uniform, and he'd only _just_ managed to save Declan's life.

But it had worked out - and from what he'd heard Brodeur's fixer say to the police as he'd slipped away from the prison, Brodeur was about to be in a great deal of legal trouble, and Declan could look to be freed soon.

So in the end, it _had_ worked. Barely.

"Declan's going to be fine," Laurel told him as she finished buttoning up her blouse.

"Did the League teach you how to read minds along with everything else?" Oliver stood up from his desk and walked over to her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss before pulling back, taking one of her hands in his.

"It was pretty obvious. The Black Canary talked to Sara last night - Brodeur's man is flipping on him, and Declan's execution has been put on hold while they investigate everything. It might take a little bit, but he's going to be free." She smiled slightly. "You saved his life."

"Couldn't have managed it without your help," Oliver pointed out.

"That's why we're partners in this, and everything else," Laurel pointed out, and then it was her turn to kiss him. Oliver took the opportunity to put his arms around her waist and pull her close, deepening the kiss - though eventually, they had to pull back.

"I love you," Laurel murmured.

"I love you too," Oliver replied, resting his forehead against hers for a moment.

 **Queen Mansion**

 **October 30th, 2012**

If the Declan thing had been a little too complicated, then things with Diggle... well, if the fact that the other man was standing in the living room was any indication - things had worked out more or less as planned on that front.

"Here about the bodyguard job? Because the new guy, he just, _vhoop_ , left," Oliver made a throwing gesture as he spoke.

"No," Diggle shook his head. "I'm here about the other position." Diggle started to walk towards him, "Just to be clear, I'm not signing on to be a sidekick, to you or your girlfriend."

Oliver shook his head, "I wouldn't ask you to be. Full partnership."

"Good. Because you two were right - fighting for this city needs to be done, and nothing I do or don't do is going to change that."

"Very true," Oliver agreed quietly.

"You two say you're fighting a war. War comes with casualties, Oliver. But if I'm there, I might be able to make sure there's less of them. Including you two."

"I'm not looking for anyone to save me, Diggle. Neither is Laurel."

"Maybe not, but you need someone to anyway. Because neither of you know what war does to a person. Whatever you went through on that island... you don't know."

 _All five years, I fought a war, Diggle._ But he was right that this was a different kind of war, different from what he'd done in Lian Yu, different from Laurel's experiences in the League...

"So, I'll help you - with all of it. Including saving you both, if it comes to that," Diggle held out a hand, and Oliver took it.

The moment lasted for only a few seconds - and then the front door burst open, and Detective Lance called out his name.

"Oliver Queen!"

Oliver turned - Lance, his partner and two uniformed cops were walking in, and Laurel was coming down the stairs.

"Dad?! What-"

"Detective Lance, you can't just barge in here-" Walter started, walking into the foyer, indignant, but Lance interrupted him.

"I have a badge, a gun, and probable cause that says otherwise."

"Dad, what the hell are you doing!?" Laurel demanded, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

"Laurel, I need you to stay back," Lance replied softly, before turning back to look at Oliver.

 _Well... finally found the obvious clue. Now is a better time to do it than when I'm in the middle of something._

"Oliver Queen, you're under arrest under suspicion of murder, assault, trespassing, obstruction of justice and acting as a vigilante," Lance's tone was professional, detached.

"Are you out of your mind?! You think I'm the _Hood?_ " Oliver shook his head. "I know you've always had issues with me and Laurel-"

"Oliver, don't make a scene," Lance interrupted. "I have to follow the evidence where it leads, and right now it points right at you." Oliver struggled just enough to be convincing as the officers forced his hands behind his back and cuffed him.

"You can't do this, Dad!" Laurel pushed past the cops. "You promised you were done with -"

"Laurel, we have video evidence that points to your boyfriend being the Vigilante. I can't stop doing my job just because a suspect is dating my daughter. Please, _don't_ _make a scene._ "

Laurel locked eyes with Oliver, and Oliver nodded. This was all according to the plan.

"It'll be fine, Laurel. I'm innocent, and whatever 'evidence' your dad has can't make me into something I'm not!" He glared at Lance.

"I hope for Laurel's sake you are innocent, but in the meantime, let's go. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided to you by the public. Do you understand these rights as I have described them to you?"

Given how Detective Lance genuinely seemed just a little bit apologetic about having to arrest him, Oliver slightly regretted using him as a prop like this.

But it had to be done. Oliver needed to make sure the possibility of him being the Arrow was completely discredited.

And so...

Arrest.


	7. The First Trial of Oliver Queen

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine.

Thanks to WilOzSummers for beta-reading

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 7: The First Trial of Oliver Queen

 _Before the truth finally came out, there were many theories as to the identity of the Hood - or, the Arrow, as he eventually came to be known. Digging through old blog posts and tweets in lost corners of the internet show rampant speculation as to the vigilante's identity, and yes, the suspicious timing around Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance's return to Starling City and the sudden appearance of two vigilantes made many curious._

 _Still, most of the time, it was relegated to conspiracy theory and baseless theorizing. Proof was thin on the ground. Those few times 'proof' was found... well, then someone ended up on trial._

 _Before his retirement and the final official pardon of the Arrow, Oliver Queen would be put on trial for being the Arrow three separate times, and nearly brought to trial another two. The first one happened less than a month after Oliver's return to Starling City._

 _But this one - this one Oliver Queen had planned for._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Interrogation Room, Starling City Police Department**

 **October 30th, 2012**

"This is a mistake," Oliver said, not for the first time, looking Detective Lance in the eye.

"I need to ask you a few questions for the record," Lance started, ignoring Oliver's words. "Have you ever been arrested before?

Oliver frowned, "Several times, you know that. You were the one who arrested me one time. For public drunkenness. Not assault, not murder. You know I'm not capable of that." Oliver shook his head, "I am not this - this crazy arrow shooting vigilante!"

"You're right," Quentin agreed. "I do know you, and I'm having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around the idea of you being the Hood. But I have video evidence and a lot of circumstantial evidence that points to you being this guy. Because you being the Vigilante fits the information pretty well." Quentin started to tick the points off on his fingers, "One, The Hood shows up right after you come back to Starling City. Two, he conveniently is on hand to save your life from those attempted kidnappers. Three, he robs Adam Hunt at the same time as your party right across the street. And four, you vanished completely after the shooting started at the Unidac Industries auction, except for security camera footage that shows you with a green hood."

"That's hardly proof of anything! I ran into the stairwell when the shooting started, saw the duffel bag and I thought it belonged to the shooter. I grabbed it, looked inside and saw a hood. And as for the rest - you could say the same thing about Laurel! There's another vigilante in the city - I saw the news report about what happened at the docks - there was a woman in black, _helping_ the Hood. If I'm the Hood, then she could be the other one." Oliver shook his head.

"Unless you think she isn't noticing me slipping out of bed every night to shoot arrows at people!"

Lance's expression darkened a little, and Oliver found himself wishing he'd phrased that better. Yes, Quentin Lance no doubt knew that Oliver and Laurel were sleeping together, but it's not something you actually bring up in front of your girlfriend's father.

"Laurel isn't being interrogated here, and we don't have any video evidence tying her to anything," Lance said after a moment to gather his thoughts.

Oliver let his expression show a 'sudden' realization. "You came after me on such flimsy evidence because you were afraid if you didn't, your bosses would put someone else on the case. Someone who _would_ arrest Laurel. Because the police are probably under a lot of pressure to deal with this vigilante, to show they're on the case."

"The evidence isn't exactly flimsy, Oliver." Lance countered, not responding to Oliver's accusation. _He doesn't need to._ "If you just found the hood in the duffel bag, where is it? Where's the bag? Did you take them home with you?"

Before Oliver could answer, the door opened.

"I want to see my son!" Oliver looked up at the sound of his mother's voice - she practically stormed into the interrogation room.

"I'm in the middle of an interrogation, Mrs. Queen," Lance said calmly.

"Detective Lance, I know you have problems with my family, but what on earth would possess you to arrest my son without any evidence whatsoever?!"

"I _have_ evidence, and solid grounds. I have to follow the evidence, wherever it leads!"

"And it conveniently leads you to Oliver - you spent five years harassing us, and now you're back at it again!"

"You can present your evidence to Oliver's attorney when she gets here," Walter added sternly. "Until then, your interrogation is over."

It didn't really matter which lawyer defended him, as long as they were halfway decent at their job. Once he made bail, this would all be sorted out.

"Sure," Quentin closed the case file. "You have twenty minutes," Lance left, closing the door behind him.

Oliver closed his eyes a moment and let out a breath.

"Detective Lance appears to be on a personal vendetta," Walter suggested, but Oliver shook his head.

"I don't think that's it, at least not on purpose," Oliver shook his head. "He promised Laurel he'd work on his issues with us dating, and he's been pretty good about it. He does have video evidence that shows me holding a green hood and he's acting on it now so they don't take him off the case and come after Laurel too."

"It's good that you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, Oliver," his Mother started placatingly, "but Quentin Lance blamed the entire Queen family for Laurel's death for five years,"

"And for the collapse of his marriage, I know, Sara told me," Oliver finished. "But that's not what this is about. Not on purpose..." Oliver sighed. "We just need to prove to him - and his bosses - that _I'm_ not the one that's running around the city in a green hood, shooting people."

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **October 30th, 2012**

"Sara, what the hell is Dad up to?" Laurel didn't bother with any prefatory remarks or greetings. She didn't even need to fake her annoyance and anger. ' _Don't make a scene'. What, does he expect me to just say nothing when he arrests my boyfriend?_

"I have no idea," Sara replied, bewildered. "I'm not on the anti-vigilante task force, and he didn't tell me before he arrested Oliver. I don't know what the hell he's thinking. I'm almost thinking Dad's just going after Oliver because 'he's not good enough for you'." Sara held up a hand, and Laurel realized she'd started to glare. "You know I never agreed with him there. Hell, I had a crush on him too, at one point."

 _Nice to have that confirmed._ Not that Laurel had ever really felt threatened on that front - Oliver had strayed a few times before the Queen's Gambit... but with her own sister? Even he'd never do that. He'd still thought of her as kid, in a lot of ways.

"I figured that part out," Laurel replied, smirking just a little. Then she shook her head. "Dad promised he'd leave Oliver alone, that he'd stop thinking Oliver wasn't good enough - or at least stop saying or doing anything about it." Oliver was good enough - more than good enough - for her. It was a toxic idea, for that matter, the notion of someone being 'good enough' for someone else. Love wasn't a prize for being some moral paragon or highly capable.

"I don't think Dad thinks _anyone_ is good enough for either of us... but still. This is more than just veiled threats and muttered comments. Dad has some reason to believe it's Oliver..." Sara shook her head. "The Lieutenant and even the Commissioner have been on him to find the Hood, show some proof that the SCPD is better than some vigilante. But..." Sara trailed off again.

"Dad doesn't submit to pressure when it comes to solving crimes," Laurel finished, and Sara nodded. "This is insane - he arrested Oliver and did a perp-walk in broad daylight in front of all the cameras... someone is going to think Oliver _is_ this vigilante... and do something about it."

That was the most dangerous part of the entire plan. That someone with a grudge against the Hood, that someone who had some reason to want the Hood dead...

 _Or worse, someone who knew about the List - whoever hired those goons to kidnap him, Tommy and me..._

Oliver could take care of himself, but still...

"Dad's hardly going to just let Oliver be at the mansion without anyone there onsight if he's allowed bail," Sara pointed out. Sara put a hand on Laurel's shoulder. "Oliver's going to be fine, you know that? He's innocent _and_ he can afford the best lawyers in the city. Pretty hard combination to beat."

Laurel let out a breath. She knew this would work out in the end, that Oliver would be back at the mansion, back by her side in a matter of hours once bail was allowed and posted, but...

The threat of being separated from him for... for good. Less than a year after she'd found him again...

She was handling it worse than she'd thought she would.

Laurel took and let out another deep breath.

"I know... God, I know. I didn't even take the L-SAT's and _I_ could get Oliver off these charges with half my brain tied behind my back, but..." She shook her head. "We need to talk to dad, find out what he thinks he's doing."

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **October 30th, 2012**

Somehow, by unspoken agreement, her dad and her sister had decided that her apartment was neutral ground for them to argue about Oliver being arrested.

Sara was starting to wish they'd picked somewhere else. Somewhere she _wasn't._

 _Yes, Laurel's right, Oliver is obviously innocent, but I'd really rather not have a fight with Dad when I see him at work everyday!_

"...if you still had a problem with me dating Oliver, you could at least have gone back to making snide comments every time his name came up in conversation!" Laurel half-shouted. "Not arrested him for something he obviously didn't do!"

"There's video evidence of him with a green hood at the Exchange Building during the shooting, Laurel!" Her dad shot back, his voice raised just as much. Sara hoped none of her neighbors were in. "There's the fact that the Hood started his activities after you two came back to the city, and a lot of other very suspicious coincidences connecting him and the Hood."

"Then am I this other Vigilante? The one in black?" Laurel countered as she turned, stalking away from their dad. "Or am I just so unobservant I don't notice that my boyfriend is getting out of bed every night and gallivanting in green all over the city, playing Robin Hood!"

Sara resisted the urge to laugh as 'gallivanting in green all over the city playing Robin Hood' caused an image - unbidden - of Oliver dressed as the lead character of _Robin Hood: Men in Tights_.

 _I can't imagine him singing either._ Oliver had things he was good at. Singing was... not one of them.

Sara tried to imagine Laurel in the outfit she'd seen the self-styled Black Canary wearing just a few days ago... she couldn't see it. _Plus, if she was the Black Canary, that would mean I thought my own sister looked hot. Blech!_

"That's exactly the problem, Laurel!" their father explained. Sara watched him close his eyes for a moment and take a breath, then he went on. "We have this video evidence, we have this suspicious timing, these other coincidences. If _I_ didn't act on all that and do something, the Lieutenant, the Captain, the Commissioner - they'd think I was holding off because Oliver Queen is dating my daughter. They'd have taken me off the case and assigned someone else to it. Someone who would arrest you right along with Oliver!"

"Because you're absolutely right," Laurel turned when their father said that, and even Sara did a double take. _Dad, admitting he's wrong?_ He'd done it a few times, but they had both inherited their stubbornness from him. "Oliver is a lot of things, most of them things I don't like, but he's not a killer. And I raised you better than to cover for him if he was. But to someone else, someone who doesn't know you? If they decide Oliver is the Hood, then yes, they'll get to the next conclusion than you're this... Banshee, and then you'll be arrested too."

"So yes, I arrested Oliver on the video and some circumstantial evidence. As long as your boyfriend doesn't do something stupid like take a plea bargain, he's going to be fine. His family can afford the best lawyers."

Sara watched her father lay out his logic for arresting Oliver, and it made sense... he was playing the politics of the case, knowing Oliver would get off and then he'd be able to go back to trying to find the real vigilantes. He was... compromising the law, or at least... playing fast and loose with the idea of what the police were supposed to do.

 _Well... I never expected Dad to do something like that..._ Then again...

Well, Sara's father had done plenty to protect her from her teenage and young adult... excesses, before she'd knuckled down and focused on becoming a police officer. Covered for her, made sure she was never arrested or even cited or anything like that. Called in favors with judges and other cops.

 _If he hadn't, I'd never have been able to become a police office, so..._ if there was one thing that would get Dad to compromise his principles, it was Laurel and her. And at least here he wasn't covering anything up.

"Dad..." Laurel said softly. Sara watched her sister walk back towards him and hug their father tightly. "Thank you. I'm sorry for..."

"It's alright," their dad said after a long moment, returning Laurel's hug. "Given how I treated you dating Oliver before... I don't like him... not sure that'll ever change. But you do, which means you must see something in him that makes him worth it. So I'm trusting you to know what's best for you when it comes to him, alright?"

Laurel smiled, "Alright."

 **Queen Mansion**

 **October 30th, 2012**

Getting an ankle monitor had not been part of the plan, but they could still work with that. It wasn't like he'd have been able to get away from his own party for long if he wanted to maintain public plausible deniability.

This wasn't about just beating the criminal case, but about making sure public opinion was that the Hood wasn't Oliver Queen. So no criminals decided his family was a good target.

"Any questions?" The officer said as he closed the monitor around Oliver's ankle.

"Yes. I am having a sizeable get together here tomorrow evening and there is a better than likely chance that it spills into the outdoor pool." Oliver was unsurprised by the looks on Tommy and his mother's faces. _Given how much mom cares about image when it comes to High Society, you'd think she'd follow the logic immediately._

"Pool deck's fine, step on the grass, they're sending a SWAT team to forcibly subdue you,"

"Thank you officer," Walter led the policeman to the front door.

"A sizeable get together?"

"Gee, Mom, question my judgement more loudly," Oliver remarked. "I'm confined to this house for the foreseeable future, and I may as well make the most of it. And - we should make this party themed," Oliver added, as if just thinking of the idea. "I'm thinking... prison - Burning Man means _Shawshank Redemption._ " He gestured a bit grandly, "The invite says... 'come before Oliver Queen gets off.'"

"Maybe a party isn't in the best of taste," Tommy started, and Oliver blinked.

"Who are you and what have you done with Tommy Merlyn?" Oliver stood and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "The entire city saw me in handcuffs being marched into the police station. So they're wondering if maybe I really am the Vigilante. Let's show them I'm not by showing everyone how little we're worried about the trial. By having this party." He dropped his hand to his side.

"But I _am_ worried, Oliver!" his mother raised her voice just a touch. "This isn't a DUI we can just pay a fine for and more or less sweep under the rug."

"Yeah, but I actually _did_ the DUI... and the peeing on the cop, and the punching the paparazzi asshole," Oliver pointed out emphatically. "I'm innocent of this... psycho murderer thing. I'm not worried, Mom, and you shouldn't be either." He looked back over to Tommy. "So what do you say, Tommy? Let's plan a party!"

Tommy let out a small sigh and Oliver watched Tommy give his mother a put upon expression, as if to say 'I can't stop him."

 _Nope._

 **The Glades**

 **October 30th, 2012**

Laurel wasn't sure why she was dropping in on Sin every few days - she'd delivered the girl's father's last thoughts - of her - done what she'd promised four years ago... but she stayed at it. Looked out for the girl, when and where she could. She'd contemplated seeing if she could arrange some safehouse for Sin, somewhere she could stay every night in relative (at least) safety, but she didn't think Sin would accept the offer. Not yet, anyway.

"One of these days, I'm gonna see you before you drop down in front of me," Sin remarked. "Or maybe just strain my neck always looking at the rooftops."

"I wouldn't be very good at my job if you were able to see me that easily," Laurel pointed out smirking. As she usually did, she was just wearing a mask over the upper part of her face, with the blonde wig, rather than the hood and nearly complete facial covering of a full League uniform.

With Sara, she'd taken that extra precaution, just in case her sister could have picked something up. Next to Ollie, Sara and her Dad were the people in Starling who knew her best, and she couldn't take any chances of them finding out.

 _At least not yet, when it comes to Sara._ Laurel wasn't sure if she could ever fully bring Sara in, but she wanted to. She just had to keep working with her, as appropriate, until the time came when she could tell Sara the truth, and know she'd accept it.

Sin shook her head, "I'll figure you out, one way or another. Oh, speaking of - those thugs you beat up the other night? One of their buddies is putting the word out - they're gonna have some sort of scum meeting about working together to take you down." Sin tossed a piece of paper and Laurel caught it. "Couple days, that address."

"I'm terrified," Laurel said deadpan, then, "I didn't ask you to spy for me. It's too dangerous."

"I live in the Glades. Dangerous and me are neighbors." Sin shrugged, "Besides, I just heard it. Friend of a friend, hear things from people. Word gets around about you - you're what everyone is talking about in this part of town."

"Good things?"

Sin shrugged again, "People aren't sure. You're riling up a lot of the bastards, making them angry. But you're making them afraid too, so... balances out. If you keep putting them in the hospital at the rate you're doing things... they'll be too busy healing broken bones to do anything." Sin laughed.

"That's the idea," Laurel nodded. To a point, anyway. It was one thing for Oliver to engage in his one man - even if it wasn't exactly one man - crusade to kill the elite that were poisoning Starling City, but it was another to try and treat all the symptoms by herself, or even with Ollie's help.

"But that's it?"

"You've only been at this for like a month," Sin pointed out. "I think people are afraid you'll get killed or just... go away, and things will go back to normal. Anytime someone tries to do something for the Glades, they always leave in a fucking hurry."

"I'm not planning on leaving the Glades behind anytime soon," Laurel promised.

Sin cocked her head to the side, "So Oliver Queen isn't the archer, then."

Laurel blinked, "What makes you say that?"

"You're too calm for someone whose boyfriend is on trial."

"I've told you already, the Hood isn't my boyfriend. He's just... a fellow traveller." _The last thing either of us needs is people thinking the Black Canary - the Banshee - is a way to get to the Hood or vice-versa._

"Yeah, yeah," Sin gestured dismissively. "Occasional common interests and all that shit. You say he's not your boyfriend, but you've got the hots for him, at least. I mean, under that hood and all the rest of that green, he's got to be _fit_ to do all the crazy shit he does. You want a piece of that."

 _I'm already getting a 'piece of that'_. Laurel couldn't deny that Oliver was 'fit', but still.

"He's not my boyfriend, and I don't know what he looks like under that hood. But I doubt he's some spoiled rich kid."

"I hope the Hood isn't Queen. I like what you're doing, here in the Glades. I like that you aren't killing... but the people he's been going after - glad someone is standing up to the rich assholes in this city. If that means some of them die?" Sin laughed darkly, "Fuck 'em."

Laurel couldn't accept the death quite that casually, but she could hardly judge Oliver, given her own murders. And... she didn't see the deaths he had to cause as much loss, in most cases, that much was true.

"And you called _me_ cold not too long ago," Laurel noted, without reprimand.

Sin just shrugged yet again. "What can I say? Eat the rich fuckers."

 **Queen Mansion**

 **October 31st, 2012**

"Muller's been parked in the Warehouse district of the Glades for 45 minutes," Oliver observed, handing the phone back to Diggle. _Damnit._

"Good place for an arms deal. So how do you want to handle this? We drop a dime on Muller to the cops?"

Oliver shook his head, "No... the Hood is going to interrupt their deal."

"Oliver, you can't leave the house," Diggle's voice was calm, but he sounded very much like he wanted to yell.

"I can," Laurel pointed out, closing the door behind her. "The buy is going down?"

Oliver nodded, "I was hoping it wouldn't yet, but..."

"It is what it is," Laurel shrugged. "I'll head back into the party, duck out in a few minutes and borrow your suit and bow."

Diggle looked from one to the other, "This is your plan? The whole time?"

"We were hoping it wouldn't have to be stopping an arms deal, but Muller doesn't move on our schedule," Oliver confirmed. "The idea was just to have the Hood show up somewhere with enough witnesses for word to get back to the police, while there were a hundred plus witnesses -and as it turns out, a tracking anklet - that can testify as to where Oliver Queen was."

"You can shoot a bow and arrow too?" Diggle didn't sound skeptical so much as surprised.

Laurel nodded, "Not as well as Oliver, but I can beat him in close-quarters, so it balances out. Swords were what I used on the Island," _And elsewhere,_ Oliver added mentally. "My tonfas are less lethal, which is why I use them now."

" _Swords_? This is the 21st century. What the hell happened to you two on that island? Who else was there? You don't use swords when hunting game."

"Some other time, Diggle," Oliver cut in firmly. He took one of Laurel's hands in his. "You've got this?"

"I've got this. This was always going to have to be the plan," Laurel pointed out. "I can wear your hood... I'm not sure you can wear my outfit," she added with a smirk. Oliver heard Diggle barely suppress a chuckle at what was an admittedly amusing mental image of Oliver in the 'Black Canary' outfit.

"Next time, fill me in on the plan so I don't think you're crazy to take being arrested so casually," Diggle commented, just a little sourly. "If I'm going to be your partner, then I'm your partner."

Oliver looked over at Laurel, who shrugged, then, in Russian, "He's right."

"Yeah," Oliver replied in the same language, then back to Diggle, in English, "You're right. I'm used to only trusting Laurel. But you are our partner, not a sidekick. I'll make sure you're in the loop. Promise."

"Good," Diggle nodded. "Best get ready to leave soon, if you want to make the meet," he added to Laurel.

 **Queen Mansion**

 **October 31st, 2012**

"Tommy!" Sara called out to her friend over the music, who was just coming back from dancing with some admittedly hot girl Sara didn't recognize. "Can I borrow you for a moment?"

Tommy shared a few whispered words with his apparent conquest to be, who giggled, but let him go, waving a bit as he walked towards her. "What's up?"

"Can we talk somewhere a bit away from all the noise?" Tommy nodded again and they ducked into one of the mansion's hallways. "I wanted to talk to you about Oliver - has - has he told you anything? About... what Laurel and him went through on that island?"

Tommy's mood dropped visibly as he shook his head, "No. Just a whole lot of vague and an implication of _really_ not wanting to talk about it. He avoids the subject like I avoid commitment," Tommy chuckled at his self-deprecating joke. "Laurel tell anything to you?"

"Pretty much the same. Evasive. But it was... something. The night she came back, when she stayed over at my place, I - I woke her up from a nightmare - she attacked me with some throat jab thing. And then when those triad assassins came after me at my apartment a few weeks ago - Laurel fought one of them off with kitchen knives!"

"Your dad did always insist you two learned self-defense," Tommy pointed out, chuckling a little. "I was on the receiving end of a few examples of that growing up, you might remember hearing."

Sara did remember, and under other circumstances, she might have shared Tommy's chuckle, but not now.

"Oliver took a polygraph in front of the DA before the party... I dunno, hoping it would convince her to just drop the whole idea, I guess. She asked him about the island... about all the scars he has." She hadn't seen Oliver's, but she'd seen her sister's. "He said that he and Laurel weren't actually alone on the island and -" Sara inhaled. "That they got the scars because the people there _tortured_ them."

"What?!" Tommy half-shouted, then took a breath of his own and, "They were tortured? What- what the hell?"

"That's what he said, and the polygraph bore it out," Sara confirmed. "I mean... I wondered how she could have hurt herself so badly, some of those injuries wouldn't likely be from accidents, but..." Sara trailed off, unable find the words.

"They're not gonna talk about it, you know that," Tommy pointed out softly. "Neither of them are the biggest sharers, never have been."

"That's true," Sara acknowledged. "I just... what am I supposed to do with this information, knowing someone tortured my sister? Dad's going out of his mind over this information…" Sara dropped her head into her hands for a moment, letting out a deep, if brief, sigh. "What I _want_ to do is find whoever hurt my sister and Oliver and... and fill them with lead."

"Probably not the best of plans," Tommy pointed out. "I... I have no idea what the hell to do with this information... and it sucks," he agreed. "Jesus christ..."

"We knew it wouldn't be an easy adjustment after five years..." Sara reminded him. "But... god, I wish they'd talk to a therapist... or something. But as long as they won't..."

"We'll have to do what we can," Tommy agreed. "God, this kills the mood," he held up a hand before Sara said anything. "But Oliver and Laurel are more important than getting my party on."

 **Queen Mansion**

 **October 31st, 2012**

"Well, Mr. Diggle, you certainly earned your salary tonight," Quentin Lance said, putting down his phone. "This guy was clearly a professional, from the looks of things. High quality black market weapon, no ID, prints not in the system..."

"Oliver!" Laurel burst into the room, rushing over to the couch. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Diggle took care of him, and your dad was right behind. How did you know I was in trouble?" Oliver looked back at the detective.

"When you were struggling with the guy, you broke the ankle monitor," Lance explained, then he looked over to his daughter. "Laurel, where were you? Oliver told me you went off after you two had an argument, but I tried calling you-"

Laurel didn't miss a beat, to no surprise of Oliver's and shook her head, "I borrowed Oliver's motorcycle, went for a ride. Yes, in the dark, yes, I wore a helmet, yes, I know how reckless that was." She preempted any lecture her father might have. "I just... needed to clear my head."

"This is your fault, Detective," Oliver watched as his mother very nearly got up in Detective Lance's face as she pointed at him accusingly. "By publicly accusing my son, you made him a target!"

"I did what was best with the evidence we had at the time," Lance replied levelly, after a sharp inhale. Then he crouched down and removed the ankle monitor from Oliver.

"What-?" Oliver feigned surprise.

"The Hood was across town, breaking up an arms deal, while you were still here at this party. Plenty of witnesses put you here, so... DA is dropping all charges."

"Oh thank god," Oliver's mother let her steely composure crumble a little - just a little.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you turned out to be innocent, Oliver," Quentin said. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute, but I'd like to have a word with my daughter, first, if that's alright?"

Laurel nodded and got up, walking out into the hallway with her dad.

"You know, it kind of would have been cool, if you'd been this... badass vigilante guy," Thea said, sitting down on the coffee table and looking over at him.

"Sorry to disappoint. I'm just your normal, boring brother," Oliver smiled.

"You're a lot of things, Oliver... including sometimes a killjoy, but boring isn't one of them," Thea disagreed. "And I'd rather have my brother actually be around and alive and not in prison than have you be some crazy murderer guy."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, Thea. I promise."


	8. Pride

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow. This gets really repetitive, doesn't it? I don't even know why I keep doing it, but it's habit at this point. I think it probably dates me as a fic writer pretty well, doesn't it?

There wasn't much to work with in Episode 6, and part of the delay for this chapter was me trying to squeeze at least more than two scenes out of the episode, but there just wasn't enough for me to do. So most of the Episode has been skipped over into moving on towards the start of Episode 7. That's also why the chapter is shorter than many of the most recent ones.

Again, as I've said before, the Oliver of this fic is in a slightly better place - sometimes more than slightly - when it comes to his mindset because he's just not as _alone_ as he was in canon season 1. He doesn't have the guilt of Sara's death (since he went with Laurel and Laurel is alive), and he has Laurel, and he's in a relationship with her - he can lean on her for support, in a way he didn't have anyone in canon season 1, and since she went through her own hell in the last five years, he's got someone he can really connect with when it comes to the island.

So, please bear that in mind as to how Oliver behaves.

Thanks to willozsummers for beta-reading

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 8: Pride

 _Even today, with vigilantes in every street and superheroes on every corner, it seems, people still commit crimes. Muggers still mug, robbers still rob, murderers still murder, the corrupt remain... corrupt._

 _Some have argued that it suggests that the deterrence model of preventing crime isn't really as effective as it claims to be - all this deterrence, and people still commit crimes. They never think they'll be caught, they never think that far ahead -_

 _Or they're just so desperate they don't even care._

 _In the Reston family, you found all three._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **The Foundry**

 **November 14th, 2012**

It was shallow, but Laurel loved to see Oliver working out shirtless. Sometimes she was pretty sure he did it just for her viewing pleasure, rather than because he actually needed to be shirtless for that particular bit of exercise, but she didn't mind, not even a little bit.

And, from a purely aesthetic level, she enjoyed seeing _two_ attractive shirtless - or nearly so, in Diggle's case - men spar in front of her, which meant it was always worth pausing whatever she was doing to watch when Diggle and Oliver sparred, either unarmed or with some kind of weapon.

She watched, taking a drink from a bottle of water as they practiced.

"Gah!" Diggle recoiled as he took a thwack across the jaw from Oliver, hand going to his mouth as he recoiled.

"Variable acceleration," Oliver explained. "Fighters work at the same pace. You switch it up, throw your opponent off his game."

"Ah - that was nice. Where'd you learn that?" Diggle got back into position.

"His name was Yao Fei," Oliver answered.

"He give you those scars?"

"One of them," Oliver answered, cryptically. Laurel wasn't sure why he decided to be so cryptic about the Island. When Diggle had asked her, Laurel had just flatly said she didn't want to and wasn't going to talk about it right now. Diggle hadn't been thrilled at being shut out, but he'd accepted it. Oliver just kept dropping little bits of information - like breadcrumbs.

 _Then again, maybe that's the idea?_ She made a mental note to ask him if he was planning something more with Diggle by doing that - or if he just enjoyed being cryptic.

"One of these days, you're going to be straight with me about what happened on that island," Diggle told Oliver firmly, and then they were back to sparring, their weapons clashing against each other.

"Maybe -" Oliver got under Diggle's guard and hit him on the side, sending the other man to his knees. "But not today," he added as he walked off the mat. He handed the tonfas to Laurel. "He's all yours, if you want a go at him."

"Oh no, getting my ass whooped by you once was enough for me," Diggle said, getting back on his feet. "I'll keep practicing on Oliver until I've got a chance at lasting a minute against you."

"Oliver doesn't even last that long against me that often," Laurel pointed out with a smirk.

"I said a _chance_ , didn't say it had to be a good one," Diggle set the tonfas down. "You two have some pretty sweet moves."

"We do," Oliver agreed. "Tonight, I'm gonna use them on him." He brought up several pictures and news articles on one of the computers. "Scott Morgan. He runs most of the power and water in the Glades - jacks up the prices when people can't pay, shuts them down even in the dead of winter."

"Which is at least a month away," Diggle countered. He brought several different articles up on the screen - bank robberies. "These guys started in Keystone, moving west, been hitting banks along the way. This morning, they hit Starling City Trust. Shot an off-duty cop. He's in a coma and the doctors say it's a coin toss whether he'll make it."

"If he's a cop, SCPD will be all over it," Oliver pointed out.

"They will," Laurel agreed, getting up and joining them, looking over the report on the screen. "But if these guys are willing to kill to get their money, then it's probably going to be ugly. Could be hostages, more police officers getting shot, civilians dying in the crossfire?" She shook her head.

"These aren't gangs in the Glades," Oliver pointed out.

"I just focus on the Glades because I'm guaranteed to run into criminals there - they're still not really getting any smarter about how they do things, thankfully." Sin had heard a few more rumors that they might be trying to, but they were scared by the way she'd taken down that one meeting and left everyone unconscious in that warehouse filled with stolen goods and tipped the cops off. Only a few were likely to get any jail time, but every bit counted.

"Your call," Oliver nodded. "If you need any help, I'll back you up," Oliver acquiesced.

"They hit two or three banks per city," Diggle explained. "They're already planning their next job. I think you might need to work together on this one - they're armed, dangerous and they know what they're doing."

"They know how to plan a bank robbery, not how to plan for me," Laurel disagreed. She supposed it probably sounded arrogant, but she knew what she was doing, she knew what she was about. "If we're going to do this, I'll need to get some information from the cops." She looked over at Oliver. "No, I won't be asking for it." Sara was still a police officer, and they protected their own. She wouldn't agree to give info to a vigilante, not when it came to this.

"That's even a possibility?" Diggle looked at her. "You've got a cop in the know?"

"A detective, and she doesn't know who I am behind the mask, no. But I approached her for information on Peter Declan's case. She helped out and didn't try to turn me into the cops."

"That's pretty risky-" Diggle started, then cleared his throat. "Wait, don't tell me -the detective you approached is your _sister_? Laurel, that's a risky play. If there's anyone in the city who could-"

"I wore a hood when I talked to her, and used a voice changer," Laurel cut in. "She may be a police officer, but Sara has a rebellious streak, still. She cares more about what's _right_ than what's legal."

"That's a big gamble you're taking," Diggle pointed out, but nodded after a moment. "You know her best."

 **Queen Mansion**

 **November 17th, 2012**

In the end, Diggle had been right - it had taken them both to take down the Restons. At least, not without killing them. Laurel had pulled her punches, literal and metaphorical, when they'd hit their second bank and they'd gotten away because of it.

But equally, they'd tried to avoid shooting anyone that second time around too. Bank robbers, yes, but they weren't intentionally trying to be murderers. That wasn't the goal, for all that had nearly happened in that first bank.

Oliver hadn't needed Felicity to do something as simple as find Derek Reston, but he'd used her for the same reason he had before - he wanted to see how she responded to his request. She'd accepted his blatant lies without too much questioning. Oliver wasn't sure if that was because she was just incurious, didn't want any part of whatever weird shit he was up to, or suspected something was up - or even had guesses in the direction of the truth - and wasn't telling the police for one reason or another.

If she was incurious, she'd be safe to keep going to, as long as that lasted. If it was the second one, she would probably stop agreeing to his strange requests for help so she _wouldn't_ get drawn into whatever he was doing.

He leaned to somewhere between two and three, so far. Felicity was easily smart enough to run the whole IT division, and then some, based on all her aptitude scores, and even her foot-in-mouth disease wasn't enough to explain why she didn't have a higher position.

Unless, of course, she just didn't want it because she was more or less content where she was.

But he'd found Derek Reston and...

Gotten exactly nowhere.

"Thinking about Derek Reston, still?" Laurel asked, sitting next to Oliver on the bed.

Oliver nodded, "He had a second chance - a good one. For him, and his family. Fine, in the end, he realized it, when he was bleeding out right in front of me, but he didn't take it. First time I've offered someone a _real_ second chance, as opposed to just a 'I won't kill you' and he let his pride kill him." At least, his pride had nearly killed his son. Derek Reston had taken the bullet for Kyle Reston - though given how unstable his son had become, Oliver wasn't sure how that would work out, in the long run.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. "Oliver, the pot is calling, it seems to think you're the kettle." Oliver turned to look at her, eyebrow raised, furrowing his brow. Laurel chuckled. "Oliver, you're trying to take on the people on the list all by yourself - yeah, you're letting me help, you've brought Diggle in, but you could easily just use the list, find the evidence and let the police and the press take them down."

"It's not like the people in this city don't already know just about everyone on the list is a corrupt bastard," Oliver pointed out.

"You still don't have to be the one to take them down personally. You want to right your father's wrongs yourself, because _you_ have to be the one to do it."

"And you're trying to rid the Glades of crime single-handedly," Oliver pointed out. "If the problem is pride, I think we're both guilty."

Now it was Laurel's turn to frown, but after a long moment, she nodded. "Yeah... I suppose there is something to that."

 **Outside The Queen Consolidated Building, Starling City**

 **November 28th, 2012**

Some vague, indefinable instinct that Oliver had honed over the last five years had been all the warning Oliver had had to watch the other motorcycle and its rider - and that instinct proved right as he saw the rider pull out a gun, aiming it at his mother and whoever it was she was having a conversation - an unpleasant one, by the look on her face - with.

"Get down!" Oliver shouted, dismounting the motorcycle and running towards his mother.

Shots fired - one, two, three four - all into the man, who fell, knocking his mother to the ground. He watched in almost slow motion as she hit her head on the concrete, _hard_.His mind flashed back - to the Island, to Hong Kong, to Russia - in quick succession, but he was back in the now seconds later when he reached his mother.

"Mom," he grabbed her hand and gently lifted her into sitting position. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," she said, sounding pained, shocked, confused.

"Are you hurt, are you sure?" his words were spoken nearly simultaneously as her refrain of 'I'm fine'. Two of the company's security people were already rushing towards them. Oliver gestured at one, "Call 911!" He started to his feet... he had to chase the motorcycle, get a glimpse of the...

Oliver was only a few dozen feet away when he realized just how pointless it was, even if he tried to outflank it, even with how fast he could run, even with the motorcycle unable to take top speed this far downtown at this time of day... - and how much he _couldn't_ run after the motorcycle and leave his mother there, on the concrete, as they waited for 911.

But he had to -

He had to _try_. He couldn't do _nothing_.

But he couldn't just-

Muttering a curse in Russian, Oliver was back to his mother's side, holding her up in her seated position. He didn't know if she had a concussion or not, but he had to make sure she didn't close her eyes in the meantime.

 _Have to call Thea..._ her first, then Laurel. Then he'd have to try to reach Walter, even if he might not get the message just now, given the time difference between here and Australia...

With his free hand, he pulled out his phone, dialing up Thea.

"Ollie, I told you to just-" Thea started, assuming the conversation's topic, but Oliver cut her off.

"Get one of the guards to take you to Starling General," he said quickly.

"What happened - is mom-?" Thea asked, and he could practically hear her sitting up as she said that, stiffening.

"There was a shooting - she didn't get hit," Oliver double checked, to make sure there had been no grazing shots, no blood, no wound she hadn't realized she had, and there were none. "But she fell, I think she might have a concussion-"

"Thea, I'm fine," his mother tried to insist, her eyes drooping a little.

"Mom, mom," hurriedly, he snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, "don't close your eyes, okay?"

"I'm on my way," Thea said, her voice echoing his own urgency, then she hung up.

 _Where is that ambulance?!_ He dialed Laurel, and only got her voicemail. Not bothering to leave her a message - she was spending the morning and afternoon with Sara and her dad - Quentin had pulled a few strings to get both himself and his daughter to have that time free so they could spend the day with Laurel - since she probably had the phone on silent, he fired off several text messages, one after another in quick succession, then put the phone away.

"Mom, stay with me," he said, snapping his fingers again.

 **Starling General Hospital**

 **November 28th, 2012**

"Ollie - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put my phone-" she started, but Oliver shook his head.

"It's not like you could have expected something like this would happen," he pointed out. "You came as soon as you heard." He pulled her in for a quick hug, resting his forehead against hers for a long moment, taking a deep breath.

"Is she alright?"

"The doctors say she has a concussion - someone's going to have to stay with her, make sure she doesn't fall asleep, that there are no complications." He frowned. "And I can't just throw it all off on Thea," he added quietly. "Which means-"

"Which means I'll look into it," Laurel murmured. "You just focus on your family."

"I can't just _do_ nothing!" Oliver countered in a low hiss. "Or ask you to just do this for me."

"You won't be doing nothing, Oliver!" Laurel pointed out, pulling back from the hug a bit, looking her boyfriend in the eyes: "You need to be there for her - it's not like we both don't ditch our families too much as it is, doing what we need to do - but this is one time you **can't**. You'd do the same for me if Sara, or dad, or mom got hurt and I needed to stay with them." _Pride._ It's his mother, he has to be the one to solve it.

 _You'd feel the same if it was your mom. Or if it was Sara, or dad._ Laurel couldn't deny that, but that didn't change the fact that Oliver was being stubborn and unreasonable here.

Oliver was about to argue the point with her more when his expression changed completely and he looked past her. "Detective Lance, Detective Hilton." Laurel turned to see her father and his partner walking up the hallway towards them.

"Sorry to interrupt," her dad said as they drew closer. "They assigned us the case," he explained. "Your mother alright?"

Oliver nodded, "Mostly. Concussion, but... it could have been a lot worse. My head of security is on the way here. I want a twenty-" Oliver started, but her dad raised his hand.

"We'll put someone on her while she's still here in the hospital, but she wasn't the target - the guy she was talking with was," he explained. "Paul Copani - guy had connections - mobbed up to the eyeballs connections."

"Why would my mother be talking with-" Oliver started, asking the question before Laurel could, but then a new voice interrupted. Thea, from the doorway to Mrs. Queen's room.

"She said he was trying to get the contract for the new applied sciences building. She was trying to get him to just leave her alone." Thea stepped out into the hall, arms crossed in front of her chest. She nodded at Oliver, "Mom wants to talk to you."

Oliver nodded, pulling away from Laurel completely. "Did you get in touch with Walter?" Thea shook her head.

"Mr. Queen," Detective Hilton said quickly. "Did you get a look at the shooter?"

Oliver shook his head. "He had a helmet on." He went into the room.

"You're going to get the guy that did this?" Thea asked Laurel's father and Detective Hilton.

"Gonna do our best," her dad answered. "Laurel, a moment?" he jerked his head down the hall, and Laurel followed him away from Thea and from Mrs. Queen's room, while Detective Hilton went into the room, probably to ask a few questions.

"Don't go telling your boyfriend this, but Paul Copani worked for Frank Bertinelli." Now that was a name Laurel recognized immediately. Most people in Starling City knew that name - he'd been through a highly publicized racketeering trial seven years ago, but gotten off thanks to slimy lawyers abusing the system and several cops that _had_ to have been bribed to mishandle evidence.

Everyone in Starling knew the rumors he was a major player in the mafia on the West Coast, for all his public claims to innocence, and the lack of any new trials - yet.

As a Detective's daughter, Laurel knew they were more than rumors.

" _The_ Frank Bertinelli?"

Her dad nodded. "And he's not the first of Bertinelli's guys to get hit. Someone's been taking down his crew from the outside in - Organized Crime thinks we're looking at the start of a mob war - they think the Triad's going after him. FBI might even be getting involved." He frowned, "Your future mother in law might not have been the target, but if whoever is going after-"

"Future mother-in-law? Dad, I think you're getting _way_ ahead of us-"

"Hopefully," he agreed with a soft smile. "Doesn't change the fact that you and Oliver are gonna tie the knot sooner or later."

 _Assuming one of us doesn't die first..._ it wasn't something they'd discussed - when and how would she ever broach it to him? She didn't even have the first clue. And all that aside, they didn't have the time to even...

To even contemplate that.

But her dad was right - at least, that's what Laurel _hoped_ would happen, eventually.

"Look, you two managed to live together, just the two of you, on a deserted island for five years without killing each other." He chuckled, "If that doesn't mean you're meant for each other, I don't know what does."

 _Except that's not what happened, dad._ Not even close. Spending years thinking the other was dead...

"Oliver and I aren't ready for anything like that, Dad," she chided him, masking her thoughts with a half-forced chuckle.

"Doesn't mean it isn't coming," her replied with a much more genuine chuckle, then let out a sigh. "I gotta get back to work. Just - be careful, okay?"

"You know me, dad." Laurel replied noncommittally.

"Which is exactly why I'm worried."


	9. The Bertinelli Effect

**Disclaimer:** Mine, Arrow is not.

This has not been beta-read, because I've sat on this for an inordinate amount of time and I needed to finish and publish it or it would never get done. No excuses for the delays, just... blockage, delays and the normal bullshit.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 9: The Bertinelli Effect

 **The Foundary**

 **November 28th, 2012**

"Are you really going to start taking on entire the mob?" Diggle shook his head, "Even for a pair of Vigilantes as good as you, that's a tall order."

"Not the entire mob, just the Bertinelli family," Laurel disagreed, pulling up news reports on the computer.

"And whatever family has been whacking his guys," Diggle pointed out. "The SCPD will handle this. You should be back home with your boyfriend. His mother did almost get killed."

"Which is the whole point," Laurel explained. "If I'm not doing this, Oliver would be doing it himself, and Mrs. Queen needs her children with her right now." She shook her head. "If I hadn't promised Ollie I'd find whoever did this, he'd probably be trying to do something stupid, like infiltrating the Bertinelli family to find out who is behind this." She pulled up the reports on all the other deaths that had happened in Bertinelli's organization over the last few weeks.

Heavy earners - one of his key accountants, another who was suspected in a lot of resale of stolen goods, among other things, and the last who was believed to have handled a lot of the Bertinelli's racketeering. Each one, dead, and a huge hole in Frank Bertinelli's finances and his organization had been blown open by their deaths.

"So his mother gets shot at, and his plan would be to process that by going undercover with the mafia?" Diggle shook his head with a grim chuckle. "I suppose that does sound like him from everything I've seen from you two so far."

"Glad we're so predictable," Laurel remarked, rolling her eyes slightly. She made a note to drop a package off in the mail shortly - a secure phone for Sara. One that was a direct line to the 'Banshee'. Untraceable, unhackable, but one that would ensure she had an easy way to get information from her sister. It wouldn't arrive for a few days but if Laurel's own plans didn't work in the meantime, she could borrow the SCPD's leads on the case.

Hopefully.

"You're still looking at stepping right into the middle of a mob war, without your boyfriend's backup. Like I said, that's a tall order," Diggle looked over her shoulder at the computer screens. "Looking into Bertinelli's daughter?"

Laurel looked over at the second screen, "No. Just pulled up all mention of them in the papers," She looked over the article nonetheless. Laurel doubted Helena was involved in Bertinelli's organization - based on everything she knew about the mafia, especially the 'Italian' ones here in the States, the women weren't really involved in the running of the show. They played a role, yeah, but not a direct one. Usually.

Still, it might hold a useful bit of - no. Nothing. Just a report on the death of her fiance, Michael Staton. Tragic, but nothing useful. She moved onto another report.

"So which family do you think's going after him? Seems a bit odd they're taking this in broad daylight, going after Copani like that."

Laurel shook her head, "I... I don't think it's another family. Based on what Oliver said, the shooter went with a pretty wild spray. She was aiming at Copani, and didn't hit Mrs. Queen, but she certainly could have if things had been just a little bit different." She knew professional killing, and this was not it. The League would have killed whoever this was for sloppiness, had they been a member or prospective member.

There were few sins the League really deemed worthy of death amongst its own members, but that was one of them. You killed your target, and anyone you had to to achieve that end, but no one else. No one.

"Some sort of lone operator? Who would be crazy enough to try to take on the entire family?" Diggle grimaced. "Apart from you two."

Laurel turned to look at him, "You think we're crazy?"

"You dress up in fancy costumes and masks and take on crime in the city with arrows and tonfas," Diggle shook his head. "You're a little crazy, both of you." Then he smirked, "but at least you're _my_ kind of crazy. I'm the guy who signed up for tour after tour with the 105th Airborne. You don't join and stick with airborne forces unless you're a little crazy yourself."

"Plus, you signed on with us," Laurel allowed herself a small smile as she said that.

"Very true. So what are you thinking? Someone wants revenge on Bertinelli and has been going after people associated with him?"

"That's my guess. What I can't figure is how they knew to go after his three biggest earners. There's tons of other people suspected of being associated with him - people everyone _knows_ is mobbed up, even if they can't be convicted for it. But our killer has gone after three of his most important guys? How would they know those three in particular?"

"Which suggests an inside job," Diggle concluded. "But then that brings it back to this not being a professional killer. Assuming you're right."

"I'm right," Laurel replied flatly. "I know professional killers, and this wasn't one. Not unless they're deliberately faking it, anyway."

"And you're not going to elaborate as to _how_ you know this so well?"

"Nope," Laurel's tone remained flat. "That still leaves us with no easy way to find out who is doing this, short of trying to find a list of everyone Bertinelli has pissed off and going through them one by one."

"Not necessarily," Diggle pointed out. "Whoever is doing this had to be keeping a close watch on Bertinelli, on his whole family. Which means that they're probably still doing it. So... keep an eye on them, you might be able to guess what our killer is up to."

"It's a start. I'll have to try to get in touch with Sara again tonight. See what the police know."

"I know a guy who works in Vice, served with him a few months before he got transferred to a different unit," Diggle said, pulling out his phone. "Maybe he'll be willing to give me something."

"Be careful. You're not going to be wearing a mask and using a voice modulator when you meet with him. One way or the other, we need to figure this out quickly, before Bertinelli decides this is the work of one of his rivals - or that he at least needs to lash out at one of them, prove he's still in control." _And then we have a mob war._

She wasn't going to shed a tear for Bertinelli or his goons, even if she'd have rather they ended up in prison, but whoever it was that was going after his men wanted vengeance. She could understand that, respect it. But that pursuit of vengeance was murder, and even more, it was risking innocent lives in the crossfire. If a full fledged mob war broke out, even more people were going to get killed.

 **Russo's, Starling City**

 **November 28th, 2012**

Diggle's friend had given them a lead - the Bertinelli's were arming for a fight - putting money in a war chest, because they figured a war was on them. Especially with their earners being hit. People were ending up in the hospital as Nick Salvatti, the number two in the Bertinelli organization, cut a swath through everyone who owed the family money or favors, everyone they could squeeze.

Which was why she'd come to Russo's. According to Diggle, it seemed like they were next on the list.

"Break his fingers," Salvatii told his goon, gesturing to the owner of the small Italian restaurant. It looked like it had a nice ambiance, when it wasn't being rustled up.

"Leave him alone!" The woman - wife? Daughter? It was hard to say - said, lunging for the owner.

"Break hers too," Salvatti replied coldly, but before either order could be followed through on, Laurel kicked the door wide open, tonfas in hand. For a split second, she debated using her sonic device, then changed her mind. She'd rather not cause more damage to the building than she had to.

"I'd suggest you let them go," Laurel said in a low voice.

"You." Salvatti smirked. "Seen you on the news. They call you the Banshee. Guess I'll get to be the one to kill you," He reached into his suit, pulling out a gun, but Laurel was already on the move, leaping over a table and grabbing the goon that was holding onto the owner. With a quick wrenching of his wrist, she pulled the mobster away, bending his arm behind his back, a snap and a cry of pain leaving him out of the fight for the moment.

Salvatti raised his gun - Laurel kicked the mobster forward, sending him stumbling towards his boss, and ducked under a wild stab from the other mobster goon, who had pulled a switchblade.

The two civilians had dived behind the bar, cowering, but Laurel didn't pay them any extra mind. It was a simple matter to evade the wild, inexpert swings of the goon in front of her - he wasn't technically _bad_ , but she was League of Assassins trained - and smash her tonfas into his leg, sweeping it out from under him, sending him sprawling. Laurel kicked him in the side, sending him skating across the floor a bit.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Salvatti take aim, and fire - she dove, the bullets flying over head - and then...

The windows behind Salvatti shattered, bullets flying into his back in a quick staccato. He staggered, propelled by the force of the projectiles, then fell forward to his knees, and a figure wearing a motorcycle helmet stepped in, wearing leather biking gear. Several more shots quickly sailed past Laurel and into the goons she'd already taken out, either killing or severely wounding them.

 _The shooter._

Laurel didn't give them time to finish Salvatti off - she wouldn't mourn the mobster, but there were bigger problems. Salvatti was Bertinelli's number two guy. If anything was going to finally set the mob war off, it was that. He might already be doomed to being dead already.

"Put the gun down," Laurel said coldly, flatly. But she didn't give the shooter time to respond.

 _I don't really care what your beef with Bertinelli is. But you're putting too many people at risk._ Laurel flipped forward, over Salvatti and landed in front of the shooter. Surprisingly, they didn't try to shoot, but lunged at her with their free hand - Laurel ducked under the blow, which was surprising in its skill. There was nothing wrong with this - this woman's hand to hand.

 _Huh._ Laurel wasn't sure, but as she swung back at the shooter, blocked her tonfa blow by bringing her arm in on the inside of Laurel's swing, she was pretty sure. Yep. The shooter was a woman.

 _And Oliver assumed a man. Typical._

Laurel dropped her tonfas for the moment, lunging forward, feinting one way, then the other, and finally coming up from the center, punching the woman in the chest - she staggered back, but stayed on her feet. Laurel took the chance, grabbing at the barrel of the gun in the woman's other hand, ripping it free from the woman's grip and tossing it aside.

What followed was an intense match, hand to hand with a woman who was not as practiced, not as skilled as Laurel, but knew her fighting well. Duck, dodge - she knew how to take a blow and roll with it, avoid falling, avoid staggering too much. She couldn't land anything more than a glancing hit on Laurel, however, and Laurel knew she had the edge. But she didn't have time to really press that edge.

 _Let's go for the risky play._ Once more Laurel feinted, as if about to punch the woman in the tinted window of her helmet, but instead she dropped, rolling the side, kicking her legs out and catching the woman's left foot, sending her sprawing painfully, almost as if she'd tried to do the splits. Laurel leapt to her feet, grabbed her tonfa and, in a smooth movement, pinned the woman's right arm between the two metal rods, right at the elbow. Then twist, and _snap._

To her credit, the woman managed to avoid not screaming in pain, and it would be a clean break. She'd heal. She'd end up in prison, but she'd heal.

The woman tried to kick out at her, tried to get back to her feet, but Laurel grabbed her other arm and pulled the woman up, holding on tight as she yanked the woman's helmet off.

The face underneath the helmet was pretty, the woman's long dark hair falling down around her face, somehow still looking surprisingly good despite being in the helmet. It was a face Laurel had just seen on her computer screen in passing just earlier that day.

The shooter, the one taking down the Bertinelli Family's top earners, wasn't from another family. Wasn't an outside observer.

She was on the inside.

It was Helena Bertinelli. Frank Bertinelli's daughter.

"Huh." In a split second, Laurel made a choice. She might still turn this woman in to the cops, but first.

With the butt end of one of her tonfa, Laurel sent Helena reeling into unonsciousness.

 **Warehouse, The Glades, Starling City**

 **November 28th, 2012**

Laurel hadn't even needed to debate taking Helena Bertinelli to the Foundary. Her trainers in the League would have slit her throat if she'd even considered it. Though she hadn't planned on it being necessary, soon after she and Oliver had set up the base in the Foundary, she had set up a small space in the corner of a long-abandoned warehouse, hidden behind a false wall she'd set up, for interrogating people if she couldn't do it where she got them.

Laurel unscrewed the top of an ice-cold bottle of water and poured it over the bound - with tape over her mouth - Helena Bertinelli, watching the woman wake up and immediately start to struggle against her bonds.

"Miss Bertinelli," Laurel said, using Oliver's voice-scrambler again. She made a mental note to get one of her own and then went on, Helena saying nothing, but she seemed to be no longer actively trying to break free.

 _Biding her time for an opening, likely._

"I'm curious - why have you been trying to take apart your father's organization piece by piece?" Laurel reached for the tape over her mouth, but didn't remove it just yet. "If you try to yell, I'll just knock you out again and drop you off in front of a police station." Whatever Frank Bertinelli had done to piss his daughter off, Laurel would not mind his death. What she did mind was the mob war Helena was starting.

 _And if nothing else, I know Oliver won't mind killing him._ Some part of her wondered about the moral gymnastics she was going through, refusing to kill but also perfectly willing to let Oliver do it, even do it for her. On the other hand, she had no moral objection to the death penalty - even administered by vigilantes.

She just couldn't keep doing it herself. Even if it had meant abandoning the League, and all that could come with it. Including the few people there she'd actually enjoyed the company of, in a sometimes warped sort of way.

"On the other hand, if you tell me the truth, I can make sure your father is dead before the end of the week, and I won't turn you in to the police." Laurel ripped the tape off, not especially concerned with how it felt for Helena.

"If I wanted my father dead, I'd have already killed him myself. He can't die until he's seen everything he loves torn down around him!" Helena said quickly, her voice seething and crawling with a venom Laurel hadn't heard...

Well, ever, really.

"And it's rich for a vigilante like you, _Banshee_ , to be threatening to-"

"First of all, It's Black Canary, not Banshee," Laurel corrected. "Secondly... I'm not mourning any of the mobsters you've killed. I may not kill, but I do work with the Hood. The problem is that you're starting a mob war, putting innocent people in the hospital - and soon enough the morgue."

Helena inhaled sharply, "That's - that's not... those are accidents. I'm not-"

"I figured," Laurel nodded. "But you still can't run around doing things the way you are. Why do you need to tear your father's network down so badly? Why is it important that he knows you're the one doing it?"

"Because he deserves it! Because he loves business more than he ever did me, or my mother. Because -" Helena cut herself off, and Laurel looked the girl over. She could see the hurt lingering deep behind Helena's eyes. The pain. The loss. The emptiness.

 _Like after I though Ollie was dead... both times..._

"Your fiance. Michael Staton. Your father killed him."

"Salvatti did," Helena snarled, "But he'd only do it if my father told him to. They found - they found a laptop full of evidence, enough to put the entire family into prison for life. They thought -" Helena's voice hitched. "They thought it was his!"

"But it was yours." Helena nodded. "Revenge, then," Laurel nodded. "Jail was too good for him?"

"He'd just cut a deal. He needs to _suffer_ , and he needs to know I'm the one who did it, that I destroyed him." Helena's breathing was heavy and ragged, fury in every syllable, a rage at the world, at herself, and at her father.

 _Well, she's got a point about cutting a deal._ Laurel couldn't muster much energy to condemn what Helena was doing, or her final motives. Revenge was sloppy, but all too human. And Bertinelli and his minions didn't deserve much sympathy. Especially if he'd ordered the death of his daughter's fiance.

"Do you know why I go around in this outfit? Why I attack criminals in the Glades and beyond in distinctive, memorable ways?" Laurel asked, watching Helena's sudden confusion at the change in topic furrow her brow, even with as angry as she was. "Apart from keeping my idenity secret, I mean."

Helena just stared at her, the entire line of questioning apparently absurd to her.

"Because then they know the person going after them _is_ a vigilante, not a member of a rival gang, not someone inside their own crew. Because when groups of criminals fight each other, innocents get caught up in the middle."

Unbidden, Laurel's memory of a League mission floated to the top of her mind - a crime war had broken out between rival syndicates in Jakarta, and the spillover had been enough of a concern that the League had dispatched several assassins, including herself, to take care of the problem by killing enough people on both sides until the violence ended.

Before they'd gotten that done, hundreds of innocents had died or been crippled by the violence, caught up in the crossfire.

"They think you're the Triad, or a rival family," Laurel said. "You've been sloppy. Your aim alone is a -"

"What is this, Vigilante class?!" Helena snapped, "Are you going to lecture me on how to pick a codename too?"

Laurel resisted the urge to roll her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Your choices are simple - settle for Frank Bertinelli being killed or jailed - your choice - and leave Starling City, or to be handed over to the police. I'll make sure the Hood knows to tell him you send your regards before he dies."

"Leave Starling City!? You can't just-!" Helena started, but Laurel shook her head.

"I can and I will. After the damage you've wrecked in this city? I can't leave you running around unchecked," Laurel shook her head and uncrossed her arms, resting her hands on the handles of her tonfas. "So what's it going to be? Take what you can of your revenge and go, or prison?"

Helena said nothing for a long minute, then two, three, four. Laurel stood there impassively, watching, wondering if the other woman was trying to wait her out or something.

"Will the Hood make sure it hurts?"

"I'll pass that along."


	10. The Detectives Lance

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it.

A lot of Sara Lance here in this chapter. There's a lot I plan to do with her character down the line, and that does require a certain amount build up here. But we are closing in on a very important moment in the story - Chapter 11 will, hopefully, be a doozy for you all. For reasons you can probably guess by the end of this chapter.

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 10: The Detectives Lance

 _Today, we all know that most superheroes and vigilantes operate in tandem with some arm of law enforcement, even if only unofficially. And that has, historically, always been true for the successful ones. The fact is, for all that vigilantes can go places and do things police can't, especially when dealing with other exceptional individuals, there are things that only police can do, as a rule._

 _Without a direction or a target, it can be hard for a vigilante to redress a given injustice. Investigating a crime is much harder than beating up a bank robber when the crime is in progress, or containing some alien or superhuman menace. Even when it was unthinkable and illegal, police worked with vigilantes all the time. It was the only way they could get anything done, on either end, in all too many cases._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **December 16th, 2012**

"Sara, you got a minute?" Sara looked up from the case file she was going over as her father stood in front of her desk. She knew that look - it wasn't that there was something wrong, but there was something he wanted to tell her, something he wasn't sure how she'd react to. _Hm. Wonder what that could be._ She got up and followed him into one of the hallways.

"What's up?"

"The Commissioner is not happy about Bertinelli getting killed by the Hood. One too many high-profile deaths and one too many deaths when we'd have done a hell of a lot better to catch the guy and squeeze him. Commissioner wants me to assemble a team to focus on just catching this guy. Him and his girlfriend. I want you on it." Sara inhaled sharply. _Shit._

She still had that phone the self-styled Black Canary had given her. Sara had asked a friend in tech to look it over, and all she'd been able to tell Sara was that it had military grade encryption. The woman hadn't reached out again, and Sara wasn't sure what she thought of that. She didn't want to compromise herself as a cop even more than she already had, but...

On the other hand, she wanted to know more about this vigilante, understand why she could be so opposed to killing herself but work with the Hood, who had no problem with it at all. She wanted to learn more about the vigilante, in case the Banshee did start killing. Because then she would have to reconsider not telling anyone else about the meeting.

 _I could be suspended, or worse, for hiding it._ And she didn't want to disappoint her father with the truth coming out either...

And on yet another hand...

 _I helped save an innocent man's life by working with her that one time._ If she hadn't given the Black Canary Matt Istook's name... then Peter Declan would have been executed for a crime he didn't commit. And she couldn't help but feel like she could trust the Black Canary to do the right thing, even if she did it illegally.

 _But if it's illegal, it's not the right thing!_ Sara didn't know how she felt about it all, when she pressed herself. Because she **did** believe in the law. She did believe in the police department - it wasn't perfect, and the court system wasn't either, but there were good people working hard to keep the city safe. Her dad among them. He was a good cop. And he was right... going outside the law to seek justice was bad. In so many ways.

 _And yet..._

All these thoughts ran through her head in less than a minute, but something must have shown on her face, because her father went on:

"This isn't because you're my daughter, and if anyone tries to say anything about that, you know they're wrong. I didn't cut you any favors in the department."

"Dad! I know! That's not-" Sara started, not even sure what she was actually going to say.

"I want you on the team because you're a good cop, a good detective, and I know you aren't one of the cops that secretly approves of what these nutjobs are up to."

 _Oh dad..._ Not that Sara didn't understand what he was saying. The Hood was targeting the scum of the city, people the police couldn't touch even though everyone on the force knew they were guilty of at least a dozen different crimes.

"I-" Sara started, then paused, took a breath and started again. "Dad... I'm not sure I - this is a pretty heavy offer. I'm not sure I want to drop working normal homicides to turn to just chasing one guy."

"Two," her father corrected. "If this 'Banshee' doesn't know who the Hood is, she knows _enough_ , anyway."

"She doesn't kill though!" Sara protested, before she could stop herself. _Shit!_ At her father's expression, she hurriedly clarified. "I'm not saying that she's not a criminal - she commits aggravated assault on a nightly basis, not to mention every other law she breaks. But she's not on the same level as this 'Hood', right?"

"She's aiding and abetting, Sara. She's just as bad as him in my book." Her father's tone was level, uncompromising. Then he gave her a small smile. "Look, take a couple of days, think it over. I'm not gonna be upset with you if you decide you just want to focus on regular homicides - like I said, you're a good detective. Great. But... well, not to play to your ego, but being on a team like this is the sort of thing that leads to opportunities. Gets you noticed."

Sara couldn't help but chuckle, "And you're sure you're just offering me this on the merits?" Not that she really believed otherwise. Her dad was too good of a cop, and too laser focused on catching the Hood - and the Black Canary/Banshee - to invite her on if he didn't think she could do the job.

"I'll think it over," she nodded. "Promise."

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **December 17th, 2012**

"I just don't know if I want to take the offer," Sara said, sitting on the couch next to Laurel. "I mean, he's right, it's an opportunity to get noticed, maybe do good things for my career in the department long term, but I mean, I didn't become a detective for the attention or because I wanted to rise to the top."

Laurel smiled slightly at her sister and shook her head, "No, but you do like attention. Or at least you did when you were a teenager. _All the time._ " Sara made a mock-indignant sound and 'slapped' Laurel on her shoulder. Laurel only laughed and shrugged. "I suppose - do you have any ambitions about rising higher in the department? To Captain someday, maybe? Or even Commissioner?"

"Oh, fuck no to Commissioner," Sara said immediately. "I don't want a job that's as much politics as it is actually having anything to do with police work. More, with Nudocerdo running the show." She made a gagging noise as she said the name.

Laurel nodded, "I remember Dad complaining about him when the Mayor named him Commissioner to begin with, yeah. Always more concerned with optics than actually solving crimes..." She shook her. "But what about Captain? Do you plan to just be a Detective until you're old enough to retire?" She was genuinely curious - before Laurel had gotten onto the _Queen's Gambit_ , she'd always felt like her little sister was pretty directionless with her life, had no real ambition or goals. Which, sure, not everyone finds their calling in their early teens, like Laurel did when she decided she wanted to become a lawyer - before the _Queen's Gambit,_ before the League - but still. It had always left her concerned about Sara.

Now, though, Sara did have a calling. It was obvious Sara liked being a cop, liked solving crimes, and liked that she was helping keep the city safe. And she did believe in the law, in a way that Laurel once had, before her time in the Ivo, and the Island and the League had worn all that down a great deal.

"I don't know..." Sara shook her head. "I mean... I don't know if I want to spend my time behind a desk, ever. And I became a full detective less than a year ago, so it isn't like I don't have time." She took a breath.

"If I accept, a lot of other cops are going to think I'm only on the team because my Dad's in charge, even if I know that's not what's going on. And I'll be focusing on just one bad guy - well, two," she corrected. "And I don't know if I want to do that. Not when there's other crimes I could be trying to help solve... and..." she trailed off.

"The Hood is _wrong_. He's a murderer - fine, he's murdering guilty people, but it's still murder. And all it takes is for him to be wrong just once. Once, and he's killed an innocent person. And that - that's why we can't have a guy like him running around the city. So catching him is a good thing. Even if the people..."

"Even if the people he's killing deserve it?" Laurel offered after Sara trailed off.

"No!" Sara protested, "They don't deserve to die - well, not be summarily executed, anyway. They deserve to rot in prison, and if given the death penalty, they deserve to have their rights protected the whole way through, including an appeals process..." she frowned, "even if I sometimes think that whole process is overwrought, it's there for a reason - if _we_ get something wrong, there's a system. It's not perfect, not even close, but it's _something_. There's no check on the Hood. He needs to be stopped. So given that, shouldn't I help stop him, if given the chance?"

Laurel very carefully didn't react. She couldn't be surprised at Sara's response, or at Sara's views on the subject of the Hood. Nor would Oliver be. It did make her hope to eventually tell Sara the truth harder, though.

 _I tell her I'm the Black Canary, she's going to know Oliver is the Hood. And then... and then what?_ She could tell that Sara was conflicted, but that at the end, she seemed quite certain of where she fell on the spectrum of his final morality.

 _But life really isn't that black and white is it?_ It wasn't, Laurel knew. But Sara hadn't been through the things she had, hadn't had her ironclad, nearly inflexible sense of right and wrong warped and bent out of shape, nearly destroyed. She hadn't been forced to open her eyes to reality.

Sara licked her lip, suddenly nervous, and lowered her voice. "But all that - god, none of that is really the reason why I'm so... confused about taking the offer or not." She leaned in a little, almost conspiratorially, and Laurel could guess what Sara was about to say. She was curious what her little sister would have to say about the Black Canary.

Now she was about to find out.

"Look, you can't tell _anyone_ what I'm about to tell you. Not even Oliver - and absolutely not Dad."

"Of course," Laurel nodded, her words completely honest. Oliver already knew, and she couldn't imagine any scenario where telling her dad that she was the Black Canary was a good idea.

"The other one - the Banshee... she actually... she visited me. Here. Broke in, interrupted the power. Asked for my help - remember Peter Declan?"

Laurel acted as though she had to think for a moment, then nodded. "That guy who was wrongfully convicted of killing his wife, but got cleared after the real killer confessed?"

Sara nodded, "The Hood and the Banshee - they figured it out, the Hood is the one who left the killer for Dad to arrest after he tried to kill Declan in a staged prison riot. But the Banshee came to me, to ask for help, some clue, something overlooked in Declan's case."

"Wait, so you saw her? Up close?" Laurel feigned a mix of awe and incredulity. "While conscious?"

"I did. She was using sort of voice modulator or distorter, and wore a hood and stood in the shadows, but yeah." Sara suddenly smiled, "She did look kinda badass, too."

"Really?" Laurel raised an eyebrow.

"Really," Sara nodded. "And she looked like she was hot, too," Sara added thoughtfully, in a very appreciative tone. It took Laurel all she could to not choke just a little at that revelation. "From what I could tell, I mean."

 _Holy -_ Laurel compartmentalized the thought away, not wanting to linger on the notion of her little sister calling her - even if Sara hadn't _known_ it was her - hot in that tone of voice.

"And did you help her?" Laurel asked, getting back on topic. "Her and the Hood?"

"I gave them a name, and that name helped them find the evidence they needed to clear Declan's name," Sara admitted, her expression growing grim. "I aided and abetted two criminals - I should have turned the phone she gave me into evidence, I should have told someone the Banshee - the Black Canary, she calls herself - came to see me, I should have... done... _something_. And I didn't! I can't just join the team hunting those two down, not without saying something - and if I do, I could be suspended, removed from the force, charged... and even worse, the way _Dad_ would react..."

She shook her head. "With all that hanging over my head, how could I join that team?"

Laurel shifted a little, looking Sara in the eye. "Do you think you did the right thing, helping them that time?"

"I... yes!" Sara admitted. "They saved an innocent man. And... and I knew that I could trust her... my gut told me that, whatever else, I could trust the Black Canary." She sighed, "I can't say why, just... I felt like she was one of the good guys. But how can she be, given that she's helping the Hood kill people, just _letting_ him commit murder?"

"Didn't Dad always say a cop's gut was one of his most important tools?" Laurel asked. She was surprised to hear that Sara had just so instantly trusted the Black Canary - well, not entirely surprised, but to hear it like that. On some level, Sara must have picked up on their bond, or something. That had to be how she knew to trust the masked vigilante so easily...

"Yeah..." Sara admitted. "But he also said it can be wrong." She inhaled deeply, then let the breath out. "I - I helped a criminal. Even for a good cause. What kind of cop does that make me?" From the way the words spilled out of Sara's mouth, Laurel could only guess that she'd been holding that back for a while.

"But then... there is a word for cops that help criminals, right?" Sara asked rhetorically, her words coming out slowly. "Dirty."

"Sara, no." Laurel said immediately. "You said it yourself - they saved an innocent man's life. With your help. That's not being a dirty cop." She reached over and took her sister's hand in hers. "I know you... I know my sister. You're a good person." _Better than me_. "You believe in justice, in doing the right thing. That much I know." She shook her head.

"Whatever else, that's the truth. You aren't some dirty cop taking bribes, getting rid of evidence and killing witnesses - nothing even close." She gave her sister a quick but firm hug.

"I'm not sure it's that simple, but..." Sara returned the hug, then nodded. "Thank you. For believing in me."

"You're my sister, Sara. Of course I do."

 **Adam Hunt's Apartment**

 **December 19th, 2012**

Sara Lance looked at the dead body of Adam Hunt, at the three black arrows in his chest, tightly grouped and delivered with what had to be total precision at close range.

 _Adam lost all his money. What does the Hood gain from coming after him again?_

It hadn't been an easy choice, but Sara had taken Laurel's words to heart - and the fact that, whatever her gut feeling to trust the Black Canary, the Hood needed to be brought down, reigned in. Murder was murder.

Especially this. Every other killing the Hood had committed had at least served a purpose. This was just... pointless.

On the other hand...

The arrows were wrong. Wrong color, and unless she missed her guess, the wrong design. And it was a complete break of practice for the Hood to come back and try again.

"Copycat?" Sara asked her dad quietly as she walked over to him.

"Doesn't make sense for the Hood to be the one to do this," her father agreed. "But that grouping - this isn't some nut with a gripe and a bow he bought from the sporting goods store yesterday. Whoever killed Hunt knew what he was doing."

Sara nodded. She'd noticed that too - getting shots that tightly grouped, with a gun or a bow, took a high degree of skill.

"I'd say it could be a frame job, but if it was supposed to be that, wouldn't the arrows at least be the right color?" Sara looked at them carefully. "Then again, that wouldn't be public knowledge." She could think of countless people who would like to kill Adam Hunt. Even if they'd gotten their money back, the victims of Hunt's schemes were many, and offhand, Sara was fairly certain at least two people had died as a result of problems - usually medical in one way or another - from the loss of their money between the scam that stole it and the Hood returning it.

"Here's the real question though:" Sara mused, looking back at her father, "how are you going to tell Nudocerdo that we have a copycat archer who is just as good as the Hood?"

"God, don't remind me. He's on his way here already," her father grumbled. "Twenty bucks he decides to keep the copycat under wraps. Blame this on the Hood."

"That's a sucker's bet dad," Sara replied with a dark chuckle. "I don't think this was anyone with a grievance against Hunt. Not a lot of archers this good, and there just happens to be one among or related to Hunt's victims? I mean, we should run them, but..." she shook her head. "I wonder if the Hood knows him."

"What, you want to call him up and ask him?" Her father replied sarcastically. "Think they hang out at Nutball Vigilante Club?"

"No, but the Hood had to pick up his skills somewhere. The odds of two unrelated master archers both showing up and gunning - well, bow-ing, I suppose I should say - for Adam Hunt?" Sara shook her head. "Have to be low chances of that." Then another thought occurred to her. "Or this could be a call-out. The archer that did this could be... well, taunting the Hood."

"Either way, unless we figure out who this Archer is soon, he's probably gonna drop more bodies," her father said. He was about to say more when Nudocerdo walked into the apartment. He nodded to them:

"Detectives." Then he turned to look at Hunt's body, stiffening a little. "What do we know?"

As her father started to explain, Sara ducked out of the apartment and into an empty stairwell, pulling the phone the Black Canary had given her out. She hadn't had cause to call the Black Canary since the Declan case, but now she did.

 _She knows the Hood. And I think the Hood knows who our new killer is._

"Detective Lance," the distorted voice on the other end of the line said after three rings. "I was wondering if you'd ever call."

"Any chance you can put your boyfriend on the line?" Sara demanded in a low whisper.

"I work with the Hood from time to time, that's all," the Black Canary replied. "I assume this is about Adam Hunt?"

"You already know?" Sara asked grimly, expression flat, even if the other woman couldn't see that. "Maybe I should rethink assuming it wasn't the Hood." Even as she said it, she didn't mean it. Her dad was right - it wasn't the Hood.

"It's not that hard to know what the police are doing, Detective Lance," the Black Canary pointed out. "The Hood didn't kill him."

"Hunt didn't just sprout three arrows fully formed from his chest. Someone - someone as good as the Hood - shot him at close range with a tight grouping. This is related to him. The Hood have any friends from Archery School in town?"

"The Hood doesn't have friends," The Black Canary replied. "If there's another archer in town, we're your best chance to finding and stopping him, Detective Lance. We can do things, go places the police can't."

Sara shook her head, exhaling violently, "You want me to hand over evidence to you again? No. I'm not that desperate. If I find out there's a connection between this killer and you two and you're protecting him or yourselves by saying nothing? I'm turning this phone into the rest of the department."

"I'd think twice about that - the police would never get past the encryption, Detective. You'd be risking your career for nothing." The warning that was probably meant in the words was lost in the vigilante's tone, the distortion just making it all sound quite flat.

"That'll be my problem. If you and the Hood really are so good you can do it yourself, you don't need me to hand over evidence to find this guy," Sara pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up.

 _I don't even know what I was expecting that to accomplish._

 **The Foundry**

 **December 20th, 2012**

Oliver had been as surprised as Laurel that Sara had refused to help them find the other archer, but that didn't mean they'd had no other options. Oliver had taken a page out of his girlfriend's book and sent a similar phone to Quentin Lance.

Unfortunately, that hadn't panned out immediately either. But now they had two leads out there. With any luck, one of the Detectives Lance would realize they had no other good option if they wanted to stop this guy before more and more bodies started dropping.

As if his thoughts conjured the call, his phone - connected to the one he'd given Quentin Lance - started to ring.

Oliver grabbed it and answered it before the Detective had a chance to change his mind about calling.

"Don't bother trying to trace this back to me," Oliver started flatly. "You'll never beat the encryption."

"There's a heating vent on the corner of O'Neil and Adams," Lance replied quickly, urgently and quietly. "You'll find what you're after there."

 _Right to the point. No surprise there._ He wondered just how much this hurt Lance to have to do - but it was exactly what needed to be done.

 _Assuming he's actually genuine._ While Lance was a good man, and not prone to deception, as far as Oliver could tell, he doubted that the Detective would be above laying a trap for the Hood, if he felt like it was his best play.

"It would be a mistake to try and set a trap for me, Detective," Oliver cautioned.

"I'm trading just about everything I believe in here because it's the only way I've got to get this bastard," Lance shot back, his voice heavy with disgust - at his own actions or at the Hood's, Oliver wasn't sure.

Oliver said nothing in response to Lance's words - what did you even say to that? - and then Lance went on: "And you've got 'till Christmas. And then, copycat or not, I'm coming after you with everything I've got." Oliver could almost _hear_ the force with which Quentin must have pressed the hang-up button after he said that, the anger in his voice nearly palpable.

 _Five days to find and stop an archer as good as I am._

Maybe even better. That was a pleasant thought.

Fortunately, he wouldn't be hunting alone. But first, he needed to get an arrow from a heating vent.


	11. The Dark Archer

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow

I Know, I know, this took freaking forever. However, I am back, and this will be my only fic writing project for at least a few months, so hopefully I'll stay back.

However, this chapter is unbeta'd, as might the next few be, as I have taken a sabbatical from Tumblr, which was my means of contacting the beta before.

For the curious, tayir 'aswad means 'black bird' in Arabic, according to what I could find. Again, as before, I'm hardly an expert on the language. So I'm sorry if I got it wrong.

This chapter, like so many of my fanfics, was brought to you by overcaffination. And, interestingly, by a new sponsor: "Hootsforce" by Gloryhammer. I have no idea why, but that song really gets me jazzed to write, it seems. It's also pretty good. I highly recommend it.

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 11: The Dark Archer

 _Some have claimed that the rise of the supervillain, of the dark counterpart to the superhero, of the powerful villains that even if they lack superpowers prove to be just as difficult and outside the box as vigilantes, proves that superheroes solve nothing._

 _The line of argument goes something like this: 'the cops use semi-automatics, the criminals use automatics. The cops wear body-armor, the criminals buy armor piercing round. The cops get masked and powered support... so to do the criminals. Escalation'. The specifics vary, but the idea is straightforward._

 _While this argument is not without merit, the truth is, even before the Age of Vigilantes dawned, such unconventional criminals were very real, and very prevalent, if subtly so. From H.I.V.E. to various occult cults to, of course, the oldest of them all: The League of Assassins._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Tech Support, Queen Consolidated**

 **December 23rd, 2012**

It was time to test Felicity Smoak again, with something a little more blatant.

Plus, she'd be able to get the information he wanted faster than he could.

Oliver was quite sure she'd be useful, assuming she had the right temperment for the work. Not just on the question of would she turn him in, if she figured out he was the Hood, but more importantly, could she just... handle it? This work wasn't for everyone, to put it mildly, and one normally didn't expect to find the kind of steel needed to do it in an IT girl.

On the other hand, Felicity wasn't exactly a normal IT girl with a normal IT background.

The blonde was busy tapping away at her tablet when he walked in, and after a moment, he decided to just get her attention:

"Hey." Felicity looked up with a small gasp and a slight jolt, then she frowned just a little, her voice suggesting she was planning to really scold him before remembering that he was in fact the stepson of the CEO.

"Don't you knock?" she still demanded, regardless, but it lacked true bite.

Oliver chuckled a little. "Felicity, this is the IT Department. Not the ladies room."

"Right," Felicity gave a forced chuckle, and Oliver wondered what was up. Felicity seemed... distracted. By something that was stressing her out. He could see the signs quite easily. It wasn't work, it wasn't something normal. This was some sort of unusual outlier. He looked her over, but without having more familiarity with her, it was hard to know for sure what was or wasn't normal for her reactions.

Whatever the issue was, he could hardly ask. Still, it bore keeping an eye on. If he was going to make use of her talents, she had to be at the top of her game. Otherwise, she'd be no use at all, potentially.

"What can I do for you?" Felicity asked, dropping into a more 'gotta do my job' tone. Professional, straightforward, get it done.

"My buddy - Steve," Oliver started, pulling a name out of thin air, "He's gotten really into archery recently. Apparently it's all the rage now among the bored elite," Oliver chuckled again. "What with it being on the news every night." He made it sound like he didn't understand it.

"I don't see why - it looks utterly ridiculous to me," Felicity opined. Oliver raised an eyebrow for a moment. If she suspected he was the Hood or connected to the Hood already - which it didn't seem as though she did - that was a very bold thing to say right to his face.

Which, if she did know, spoke to her bravery, recklessness or her complete lack of a verbal filter. From what little he'd seen of her, he was guessing it might just be all three.

Oliver made a noncommittal noise of agreement, then opened the cylinder, removing the arrow Detective Lance had left for him. "Anyway - it's Steve's birthday next week. And I want to get him some arrows, since he is all into this. Thing is, he gets these fancy custom arrows and I have no idea where he orders them from."

"I was hoping you might have some way to track the manufacturer." He carefully handed her the arrow. It was a simple enough search - he'd found the patent number on the shaft, presumably relating to the specific composite of it's makeup, and he could look it up himself, but Felicity would be able to do it faster.

And it was all another test anyway.

Felicity passed the technical side of things in quick order, typing away on her tablet, going directly to the patent and bringing it up.

"The patent is registered to a company called Sagitarius," Felicity explained, handing the arrow back to him. "That's latin for 'the Archer'."

"And there's a constellation too," Oliver mused. Felicity raised an eyebrow. "Just because I dropped out of four schools doesn't mean I don't know anything." He shrugged, "I read the horoscopes."

 _So either this is just a normal company that sells arrows for hunting or sport... but these arrows seem a bit too much for that._ But not necessarily. Vigilantes and murderers weren't the only people that would be interested in quality arrows.

Or the other Archer, like he did, had a lot of money to work with and owned his own company to make his arrows. And had a sense of humor.

"Do you know how I might be able to purchase more of these from Sagitarius? Do they have a website, or any properties here in Starling City?"

"They don't seem to have a website... which is odd. But they do have some property in the city," She wrote an address down after quickly searching more. "If they sell to the bored elite like your friend Steve, maybe they rely on word of mouth."

Oliver did know of a few places that his mother had dragged him too when he was growing up that worked like that. "Could be." He accepted the paper with the address. "Thank you." He offered her a slight smile. "You are remarkable with computers."

Felicity smiled back a little as well, "Thank you for remarking on it."

Oliver got up, "And Merry Christmas," he said as he started for the door.

"I'm Jewish," Felicity said, and Oliver corrected himself:

"Happy Hannukah," he smiled again and left the office.

 **Queen Mansion**

 **December 24th, 2012**

The whole night was turning out to be a complete disaster. The Sagittarius warehouse had been a bust and nearly killed him in an explosion, and throwing a party for Thea, Walter and Mom hadn't worked either.

"... Things will never be the way they used to be, Oliver. Deal with it," Thea said, storming past him and out of the room. Oliver stood there, wishing he'd had something he could say to Thea, something to prove her wrong, but he really... he really didn't have anything he could say.

"Oliver," he turned at the sound of Diggle's voice. "The other archer has moved things to the next level." Diggle took him to the nearest TV, which was on the news. Laurel was standing there, one hand balled into a fist over her mouth as she watched the report playing.

"He's taken hostages," Diggle went on, and Oliver watched the recording of a terrified reading this rival archer's prepared statement to the city. _So whoever this is isn't an egomaniac wanting the attention._ Not directly, anyway.

"Happy holidays, Starling city," the woman said with a shaky voice. "For the past few months, this city has been laid siege by a vigilante. "But the police have been unable to bring him to justice because they lack the will to do what justice demands."

"And this bastard thinks he can deliver justice instead?" Laurel muttered as the woman went on with her reading, sobbing:

"I will kill one hostage every hour, in the name of his vigilante, until he surrenders himself to my authority." The woman's voice broke entirely as she read this.

Diggle turned off the TV. "I'm going to tell you this - the police are on the scene, they have the building surrounded. You two should let them handle it."

"You know we're not going to," Laurel said, turning to Oliver. Oliver nodded.

"They can't handle this. Certainly not without hostages dying." He took a breath, "I'm the one he's after, so you should make sure the hostages are clear first," Oliver said, and Laurel nodded.

"As soon as they are, I'm coming to help. This guy - he knows a lot more about you than we do him. He set the trap, and he's got to have something up his sleeve here."

Oliver bit his lip for a moment, but nodded. "He has to," he agreed. "But we don't have a choice."

"No, we don't."

 **Abandoned Warehouse, Starling City**

 **December 24th, 2012**

Laurel was right behind Oliver on the Zipline, and after Oliver crashed in through the windows among the hostages, Laurel dropped to the ground, crouched, and then she was on her feet, hurrying to the hostages, all bound. She watched Oliver move to the stairway - there was nowhere for him to hide up here, so he had to be downstairs...

Probably.

"Where is he?" She asked, for good measure, but none of the hostages knew. "We'll deal with him," she untied the last one. "Follow me, and I'll get you out of here," She order, and she ushered them into a line, moving for the stairway. The police had helicopters watching the roofs, so the best way to get the hostages to safety was the roof.

The hallway to the stairs was clear, but even as she approached it, she could hear the distinct sounds of arrows being fired from bows on the lower floor. Oliver and the other archer were facing off...

"Go, go, onto the roof," she told them as they got to the stairs up. "Keep your hands up, so the police don't..." she shook her head. "Just keep them up." In a situation like this, a twitchy cop was all too possible...

She burned to go down, right this isntant to back Oliver up, but she didn't have a choice. She had to wait, wait until she was sure they were safe.

When the last one went down to the roof, she turned to the stairs down and moved quickly.

Oliver and the other archer were locked in close combat, kicking and punchiing, hitting with their bows, trying to get a clear opening to push back against the other and get the room to shoot an arrow. But nether was giving the other a chance.

Laurel's throat tightened a moment as she realized that Oliver was the one giving ground, being pushed back towards the wall. The other archer was... _better_. A better fighter than Oliver.

And there was something about his fighting style that seemed familiar... and his outfit. But she couldn't get a good look in the poor lighting.

There was no time for Laurel to stand there and watch any longer, though. Oliver took a hit in the arm and spun/staggered back, still on his feet...

Laurel pulled her sonic device and tossed it at the combatants, knowing Oliver had brought the appropriate earplugs and -

Though the sound screeched and broke all the windows and several lightbulbs, plunging the room into even more darkness, the other archer was completely unaffected. He swept his leg under Oliver's, dropping him to the ground, and the man half-turned, getting a look at both of them.

And that's when Laurel recognized the archer's outift.

It was League of Assassins. Complete with the hood she'd abandoned when she'd taken up her mask.

 _No._ it couldn't be. This wasn't like the League... and Oliver hadn't done anything to draw their attention. Unless they were here for her...

But they would have told her they were here for her, they would have come to her first, given her a chance to return of her own will before they killed her or tried to force the issue. She'd counted on it...

So if the League wasn't here for her, why...

Why were they here? Why was one of them going after Oliver?

"I was wondering if you'd show up, 'Banshee'. So I came prepared," He tapped the side of his head. He started to notch an arrow to his bow as Oliver was back on his feet.

"You're outnumbered," Laurel said, drawing her tonfas. "You can't beat us both."

"So you think," The other archer chuckled. He fired the arrow at Laurel, who managed to move to the side and evade it, but even as he fired, he was ducking under Oliver's swing, and deliving two quick punches to Oliver's gut - even as he got hit himself in the chest and staggered back under the force of the blow.

As Oliver recovered from having his breath punched out, Laurel was on the archer, swinging her tonfas, trying to catch his arm in them, but he was too good. It was all she could do to hold him at bay. It was easier for her than it had been for Oliver, since she was better than him in close quarters, but...

He was still better than _her_. And he was pushing her back. Away from Oliver. She wanted to spare a glance for him, see if he was preparing anything,but she couldn't take her focus off her opponent for a moment.

"You don't just dress like a member of the League," the archer said, sounding almost astounded. "You fight like them."

"So do you," Laurel pointed out. "But Ra's Al Ghul didn't send you to Starling City."

"Nor you." The archer chuckled grimly. He pulled an arrow out of his quiver and stabbed at Laurel's gut - she managed to knock his hand away at the last moment and the arrowhead only grazed her side. She bit her lip nearly to the point of bleeding against the pain, but it gave her an opening, and she drove her knee up towards his crotch.

The Archer pulled back, avoiding her attack, but it left him momentarily on the defensive. She charged forward, keeping up her guard as she swung at his arms and sides. Now, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver lining up a shot with the archer and she slowed for just a moment, giving him an opening...

And though the arrow sailed true, the other archer avoided it.

"Together the two of you nearly equal me. Nearly," the man chuckled. "But not quite." He jumped back and dropped a flashbang. Laurel blinked against the acrid smoke that came after the bright light.

But he was gone. For a split second, she looked to Oliver, silently asking the obvious - did he leave for good?

But the answer came as his voice echoed through the warehouse.

"Perhaps if you truly were of the League you might be able to beat me, but as it stands, you can't. First Hunt, then Ravitch, and now the two of you." Laurel looked for the source of his voice, but she couldn't find him - he was projecting the sound of his speech across the room carefully, clearly knowing how to hide his location. Laurel nodded to Oliver and they both started moving. Laurel spun her tonfas in her grip, changing the angle of her hold as she moved slowly through the lower floor of the warehouse, looking for the archer.

"I was a member of the League. Trained by the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul herself," Laurel called back. "And you were once a member of the League as well. But unlike you, I've held to the League's ideals of justice."

"Is that what you think you're doing? Is that what you think the Hood is doing?" the man laughed. "You can't bring true justice to this city. Not the way you're trying." She saw the Archer - and then she saw him fire at...

Oliver!

The archer's arrow knocked Oliver's boy out of his hand and as he dove for hit he got an arrow into his shoulder for the trouble, the force spinning him back and he lost his footing, falling to the ground.

Despite herself, her heart in her throat as she watched the Archer charge Oliver, she couldn't move, frozen in place, in horror, as she watched him fire a second arrow, this time into Oliver's back as he tried to struggle to his feet. And then he was on Oliver, kicking him once, twice, three times, in the stomach...

"I know about the List! And the man who authored it wants you dead!"

 _The man who authored it wants_ -

Robert Queen was dead. He couldn't 'want' anything anymore.

Which meant Robert Queen wasn't the man who had authored the list.

Laurel was finally able to move once more - she jumped atop a pile of crates and raced across the distance between herself and the Archer, jumping and managing to get him in the back of the head, sending him reeling - but to his credit he stayed on his feet and turned to face her - and for his trouble, got one of Oliver's arrows driven deep into his thigh.

Laurel kicked at the archer's leg, and as much as she wanted to unmask him, as much as every instinct the League had drilled into her demanded she take advantage of this opening, take him out...

But Oliver had two arrows him, lookled to be barely breathing...

Laurel grabbed him, lifting him and half-carrying him to the stairs... if they went out one of the back windows, jumped onto the dumpster and then to the ground... they could get away...

She spoke into her radio, "Dig... Oliver's hurt. You need to get here... this is more than we can handle at the Foundry. He needs a hospital."

 **Starling General, Starling City**

 **December 25th, 2012**

Laurel had stayed by his bed - it was 2 in the morning now, Oliver's family was almost here...

"What did you tell them?" She asked Diggle, not looking away from Oliver's unconscious form. He was stabilized, the Doctors said, he should be waking up any minute now... but had they delayed any longer, he could have had much worse damage.

She made the right choice saving Oliver. She'd never have done it differently, not if she was back at that moment a million times. But that still meant the other Archer had escaped - the police hadn't caught him, that much was for sure. And he would be back. There was no doubting that.

"He was riding his motorcycle and a semi pulled in front of him," Diggle told her. Laurel inhaled sharply, then nodded.

"Good thing he was wearing his helmet then," Laurel noted. She squeezed Oliver's hand, then...

He squeezed back, opening his eyes.

"Ollie!" Laurel threw her arms around him and hugged him as tightly as she could given the situation - not very tight at all - then pulled back, kissing him for a long moment, then finally pulling back to her chair, holding onto his hand.

"What happened?" Oliver asked.

"Laurel called me to pick you up - had to bring you here," Diggle explained. "You've got a pneumothorax, three broken ribs, and a concussion."

"You'll need to rest, take it easy, but... you'll be fine." Laurel told him. She lowered her voice a little more, "he got away."

Oliver swallowed, then nodded. "The hostages?"

"Safe. So there's that, at least." Laurel murmured.

"You said he fought like the League." Oliver said, keeping his voice low. Diggle was probably hearing some of this, and now Laurel knew she'd have to explain the League to him, at least a few things, fill in some of the blanks about the last five years she and Oliver had been keeping secret. _Some_ of them. "And his outfit..."

"But he's not here on behalf of the League. Which means..." Laurel shook her head. "I don't know what it means. A rogue member? Someone else who faked their death to escape the league?" Not that Ra's Al Ghul or Nyssa or the handful of other members of the League that knew her previous identity and name would have stayed thinking that when she was publicly brought back from the dead.

That they still hadn't come for her was fortunate, but she couldn't help but wonder when her good fortune would end.

"But I can't see a member of the League taking innocent hostages like this. Being so casual about killing the innocent. The League goes after those who do evil, or those who threaten them. Not... random people." Laurel took a breath, but before she could say anything else, the door opened and Moira, Thea and Walter came in. She stood up.

"I'll give you some time with him," she started.

"Laurel, you hardly need to-"

"There's only so much room by his bed, Mrs. Queen, and... I need to call Sara." She shook her head. Oliver's mother nodded, and Laurel stepped around Oliver's mother, sister and stepfather and out of the hospital room. Once she was in the hall, she dialed Sara.

"Laurel?!" Sara's voice was groggy on the other end, and Laurel muttered an Arabic curse under her breath. She'd though Sara was working a late shift at the station...'

"Sara? Did I wake you up? I'm sorry I thought-"

"Laurel, you didn't wake me up," Sara cut her off. "God, I wish you had, because that would mean I'd been sleeping in the first place." She heard the sound of her sister getting up walking somewhere - where became clear after a moment when she heard the sound of water being poured. Probably at the coffee maker.

"Right. Late shift."

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't make Oliver's party..."

"It doesn't matter. It was... well, it didn't go as well as Oliver went. He was... angry. Went out for a ride on his bike... and got into an accident." Laurel's breath hitched, the fear and concern she'd had about what really happened no longer under total control. "A semi... a semi pulled in right in front of him and he -" She choked up a little, unable to keep going as she felt the fear finally escape and the adrenaline she hadn't even realized she'd had finally start to leave her.

"Oh god - is he... Laurel, I can be there, I mean if you need-"

Laurel shook her head, cleared her throat and interrupted. "No, no you don't... He's going to be fine. Just some broken ribs, a concussion... he'll have to take it easy, but..." she exhaled. "I just... when I saw him... he was so- god, I was so-" Laurel took a deep breath.

"Sorry," Laurel inhaled and exhaled again. "I didn't mean to nearly break down on you like that."

"Laurel, it's fine. You're allowed to be upset over your boyfriend and future husband getting into a motorcycle accident," Sara said with a chuckle. "You don't need to be all stoic and unaffected like you have been a lot since you got back. Not always."

"Future Husband?" Laurel latched onto that - not that she hadn't thought about being married to Oliver. She had. A lot. But not in any detail recently. Except when Sara brought it up like she did every now and then.

"You keep bringing that up."

"Laurel, anyone with eyes can see it when you two look at each other. If Soulmates exist, then you two are a textbook example. I mean, for the love of god, you went through hell for five years with only each other and you came out together even stronger."

 _Not five years together..._

But they had found each other again. Twice.

"Look, I'll stop bringing it up if it bothers you, but it's going to happen-"

That's not the point, Sara," Laurel countered. "It's just... it doesn't bother me, not really." Except that it did, since she was having trouble seeing past the mission, past the List. Past her own crusade in the Glades. Though she and Oliver had each other for all of it, it was a life that didn't exactly lend itself to marriage...

And she didn't like being reminded of that.

"It's just... neither of us have even discussed it. We're not... we're not even remotely in the right place to think about it. And all your hints-"

"They're a bit annoying?"

 _Let's go with that._

"Kind of?" Laurel said, sounding like she was admitting it reluctantly.

"Alright, alright," Sara chuckled, and Laurel imagined she was holding a hand up in surrender. "I'll stop bringing it up. I promise. Pinkie swear and everything."

Laurel managed a small smile. "I'll hold you to that."

"Hold who to what, Tayir 'Aswad?" An accented - and very familiar - voice said behind Laurel. Her blood running cold, she turned, and it was exactly who she'd feared.

Laurel had only seen her in a seemingly 'normal' american/western style clothing a few times, and for a split second, she didn't recognize the woman before her. She wore a red, low-cut dress, a long coat, and high heeled knee-high boots. And a fedora. Which, admittedly, she wore pretty well.

But none of that could distract from the reality of who it was that was standing before her for more than that split second. And the terrifying truth that came with that realization.

"Sara... I'm... I'm going to have to call you back." She hung up her phone and inhaled sharply, looking the new arrival square in the eye. She couldn't - and didn't - show any of the fear or worry suddenly roiling within her at full force.

"Nyssa." Laurel said softly.

"Tayir 'Aswad," the woman said. "You look much more alive than I would have expected." There was almost a hint of a smirk as she said it, as if she knew just how absurd it sounded.

"What do you want, Nyssa?" Laurel demanded. "Why are you here?"


	12. Daughter of the Demon

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow.

This chapter is unbeta'd.

I wasn't expecting to get this done until this weekend, but I forgot that there was a 4th of July in the middle of the week and that I had said day off.

So enjoy this chapter a few days earlier than you likely would have gotten it. I contemplated sitting on it until the weekend anyway, but decided with how much I leave you guys hanging, I should be early for a change.

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 12: Daughter of the Demon

 _The League of Assassins._

 _In many ways, the League's members were the first Vigilantes. Not entirely of course - vigilante justice has been a thing since the origin of law itself, no doubt. But the League was the first truly organized effort of private justice, and it followed the trajectory of all too many unpowered vigilantes, especially those in the days before the Age of Superheros began._

 _The story of the League is emblematic of the proverb about those who fight monsters. It served the cause of justice, preying on those who preyed on the innocent, but in time, the League's dedication to it's goals and it's need to maintain the secrecy and security of its own existence, the primacy of its cause..._

 _The League became closer and closer to what it fought, fighting with methods more extreme. It's ultimate goal always remained the same, but equally, the toll of innocents killed by the League in pursuit of their goal of punishing evil doers only climbed with each century. Entire towns and villages could be slaughtered for the death of one target, cities exposed to brutal and terrible plagues to set examples against their sin._

 _The 'justice' the League advanced was a dark, bitter, cruel reckoning, and quite clearly, it never worked._

 _But after a while, the League and all its members were too damaged to see that._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Starling General**

 **December 25, 2012**

"I think you know why I'm here, Tayir 'Aswad," Nyssa said softly - there was the slightest hint of remorse, regret, on Nyssa's face and in her voice. It was about as much emotional expression as the daughter of Ra's al Ghul was capable of - after a lifetime raised in the league, and under the 'care' of her father's parentage. It was subtle and slight, but after three years in the league, a time she'd been Nyssa's closest confidant and friend, and Nyssa had been the same for her, Laurel knew what to look for.

 _I suppose that settles why she's here, then._

"I can guess, but I'd rather hear my death sentence from you," Laurel murmured. Why... why did it have to be Nyssa that Ra's sent? Of all the members of the League...

Killing any member of the League would be hard enough, given how much she'd tried to reign in every murderous instinct the League had drilled into her since she left it, but out of all the League...

Nyssa was the only one she would _never_ be able to kill. **Never** be able to even let Oliver kill her.

But killing anyone the League sent after her would be the only way to stop them. Make her not worth the cost.

 _Of course... Ra's al Ghul would never let the death of his daughter stand even if... even if I could let her die._ Not out of love for his daughter, but pure pride and arrogance. No one was allowed to hurt what was his but him, after all.

All these thoughts raced through her mind in the moments it took for Nyssa to finally speak once more.

"I am not here to deliver a death sentence, Tayir 'Aswad." Nyssa told her, still speaking quietly.

"Well, obviously not here. It's far too public." Laurel said, forcing her voice to be as flat as possible. It was better than the alternative. "And stop calling me that. My name is Laurel. I'm not part of the League anymore."

"You swore an oath... Laurel," Nyssa said, hesitating for a moment before saying her name. "And you have yet to be released from it. But I haven't come here to kill you." She held up her hands a touch, showing them empty, though Laurel knew Nyssa could draw whatever concealed weapons she needed quickly.

Not that she needed weapons to kill her or anyone else.

"You swore an oath to obey Ra's al Ghul, to surrender who you were before," Nyssa said, stepping closer. Laurel took a half-step back, but she knew Nyssa wouldn't have said she wasn't here to kill her if she was here to do anything to her right this instant. Nyssa did not lie. Omit, yes, tell just the right truth to get what needed done, done, but she did not lie.

"I am here to remind you of that oath. To return you to the League, where you belong." She said. "You know what the other choice will be, one way or the other."

"I'm not going back, Nyssa. Never." Laurel said, her voice cracking a little. She had missed Nyssa, and her one regret in leaving the League was that she couldn't take the other woman with her. In her time in the league, she had come to love Nyssa as another sister. And it pained her more than she'd realized at the time to abandon Nyssa, to leave her friendless once more in the hellish cult that was the League, at the tender mercies of her sperm donor - that's all Ra's al Ghul was to her, really.

"You swore an oath Ta- Laurel," Nyssa repeated correcting herself as she started to say the wrong name. Laurel could hear the small note of pain, of betrayal in her voice, but the fact that Nyssa was respecting her wishes to call her by her actual name, not her League name...

 _She doesn't hate me for abandoning her._ It was a relief.

"I swore an oath because that was the only way I had to survive," Laurel pointed out. "I swore an oath because I thought after everything that had happened, everything I'd done, everything I'd lost..." _After thinking Oliver was dead_ , "I had.. I had nothing else to live for. But that isn't true. I have my parents. I have Sara. I have-"

"Him," Nyssa said, nodding to the door to the hospital room. "The one you loved and thought lost, the one you abandoned the League for. He is far more dear to you than I had imagined, to have such a hold over you."

"I abandoned the League because it was killing me, bit by bit, to be a member. A murderer. An assassin." Laurel replied, taking a small step forward. "It destroyed my soul, every day. If I'd stayed any longer..." Her voice cracked a little, "There wouldn't have been anything left of me, Nyssa." The assassin met her eyes, and she saw Nyssa's expression waver just a little.

 _Keep going._ She knew it was a long shot, but she had to try to convince Nyssa somehow. Convince her to... talk to Ra's al Ghul. Get him to release her. Somehow.

"I stayed as long as I did because of you, in part. Your friendship made it almost bearable. But I stayed as much because... I didn't see anything else for me on the outside. When I was in Russia, when I realized Oliver was alive... it was a chance. Something - someone - to hold onto." She nearly choked up, and she forced herself to take a breath.

"And so you left the League," Nyssa noted. "Left your oath, left - left our friendship..." She said the word as if it was unfamiliar to her, which, in a lot of ways, Laurel knew that it was.

"Nyssa..." Laurel said, stepping closer, putting a hand on Nyssa's arm. "I still love you like another sister. I wish I could have said goodbye... but you know I couldn't have. Not if I wanted to actually get away. I still care about you... I still wish we could-"

Nyssa cut her off, shaking her head, "But we cannot. I am the daughter of Ra's al Ghul. Heir to the Demon. I must enact his will, I must serve the needs of the League. You were not released from your oath."

"But you can convince Ra's to allow me to leave the League," Laurel pressed, knowing it was probably futile, but knowing it was her best hope. But with how little Ra's cared about his daughter, would he really grant her any request, even if Nyssa granted it. "You are still my friend, my sister in all but blood. That won't change, even now that I have left the League."

Nyssa shook her head, "You know that my father would never grant such boons. In the history of the league, such releases are only granted but rarely." She stepped away, half-turning away from her, standing in profile.

"But they have been granted. Nyssa - Oliver and I are still holding to the goals of the League. We are still serving the cause of punishing those who do evil, punishing all who prey on the innocent."

"So I've gathered - 'Banshee'," Nyssa replied.

"Black Canary, actually," Laurel answered. "Banshee's just the name the media insists on using. People in the Glades know who I am now, though..."

"Black Canary?" The ghost of a smile played across Nyssa's face for just a second, but only for a second. Then she shook her head again, "I cannot promise you any boon. I have come carrying my orders - if you will not agree to return..."

"I'll be killed."

"Ra's al Ghul will order me to do it myself," Nyssa warned. She hesitated, "I do not want to-"

 _Then don't._ Laurel didn't say it. She knew how it was far, far from that simple.

 _What kind of father orders his daughter to kill her closest - only - friend?_ A monster. But that's what Ra's al Ghul was. And Nyssa refused to let herself see it. Refused to let herself see how the League hurt as many innocents as it helped, refused to see how much her father disregarded her, saw her as merely a disposable tool.

"I won't return to the League." Laurel told her. "I _would_ rather die, if it comes to that. I'm done with killing."

"Ra's al Ghul permitted me to give you two days to make your goodbyes and prepare your affairs..." Nyssa turned to look back at her. "I beg of you to reconsider in that time."

"My choice won't change, Nyssa." She stepped back. "If I can't find another way, then you'll have to kill me."

"Ta- Laurel... no," Nyssa started, then cut herself off. "I pray that you find another way, then, 'ukhti," she finished.

 _My sister._ That's what 'ukhti, meant, and it was proof that whatever else, she was still dear to Nyssa.

That was... a relief. Even if she truly was doomed to die - and she would do all she could to stave that off... it was worth knowing that she hadn't driven Nyssa to hatred and bitterness when she'd left, when she'd abandoned her.

"So do I," Laurel answered. " 'Ukhti," she echoed back, and watched as Nyssa turned around and walked down the hall, away.

Laurel turned away as well, finally realizing how fast her heart was beating, how hard her pulse was pounding...

 _Two days. Two days to convince a monster to let me live._

 **Starling General**

 **December 25, 2012**

Laurel came back into the room a few minutes after Thea left. Oliver sat up in the bed, but then his words died on his tongue before he could say them when he saw the expression on her face - fear. Not terror, he hadn't seen that on her since the Island - but fear.

"Laurel..." Oliver started, but she interrupted him.

"I had a visitor, Ollie." She moved to stand by his bedside and took his hand, squeezing it. "Nyssa was just here."

Oliver felt is blood run cold. "Nyssa. As in-"

"Nyssa al Ghul, daughter of Ra's al Ghul, heir to the Demon." Laurel nodded. "She came to deliver it. The ultimatum..." she shudded and dropped into the chair next to his hospital bed, still holding his hand tight. "I thought... I thought after nearly three months of nothing since we came back... they'd decided I wasn't worth it. It would be too public for me to disappear again like that..."

Diggle cleared his throat as Laurel trailed off.

"Either of you going to tell me what the hell you're talking about, or am I gonna be in the dark about this too?"

Oliver met Laurel's gaze and after a moment, "He should know. Some of it." There was a lot about the last five years he hoped he'd never have to share with anyone but Laurel - who already knew it all - and he knew she felt the same.

Well, now something was coming back from those five years, and while the League could be surgical if they wanted to, everything he knew about it, everything Laurel told

"I know," Laurel said, letting out a long breath. She turned a bit to look at Diggle. "You know we weren't alone on the island." Laurel wasn't even on the island that much to deal with most of the others, but wherever she was going, he was happy to play along. This was her story to tell, here, now. It was simpler than the entire story - Fyers, Yao Fei, Slade, Dr. Ivo, Mirakuru...

"During the second year, a man came to the island, on a cargo ship. It's... a complicated story, but he was looking for something there, and was perfectly willing to kill us to get it. He had... prisoners on the ship with him. We were captured, managed to break out, start a breakout of all the prisoners. We wanted to... use the ship to go home."

 _Close enough._ It cut over a lot of things, a lot of people, one very important person in particular, but... it was sort of true.

"But... something went wrong. The ship blew up. Oliver and I both survived, clinging to pieces of the ship... but we drifted in different directions."

Diggle looked at him, then to Laurel, then back to him.

"You both thought the other died, didn't you?"

Oliver nodded, "We only... we only found each other again about six months before we were 'found' on the island." Diggle raised an eyebrow, started to ask another question, then shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

"I was found by a woman - Nyssa al Ghul. Daughter of Ra's al Ghul." Laurel closed her eyes a moment, then opened them, looking at diggle. "Daughter of the leader of the League of Assassins."

"The league of-" Diggle's eyes narrowed. "I heard about them, in Afghanistan. But that- that's just some old legend. Mythical harbingers of justice and all that."

"No, the League is very real. And I was recruited into it. I didn't... I didn't understand what I was getting into, at first. And after everything, I... I went along with it. I swore an oath of obedience to the League, to Ra's al Ghul, to abandon my previous identity, my previous life and dedicate myself entirely to the League." Laurel was speaking in a tone that was very matter of fact, almost flat. But Oliver knew this wasn't easy for her to talk about, even this abridged, abbreviated version. He reached out and took Laurel's hand, squeezing it tightly, remembering what Laurel had told him when she relayed how and why she'd joined the league.

 _After everything I'd done to survive... on the Amazo, with Dr. Ivo... the island... and I thought you were dead... I didn't have anything else - how could I face anyone when I got back? Dad? Mom? Sara? With what I'd become, what I'd done?_

She'd felt broken, felt like she was too far gone, like she deserved to be punished. She couldn't go home.

Exactly as he'd felt, why he hadn't gone home, come back from the dead, even after ARGUS was done with him.

"And you just... did that?" Diggle asked.

"At the time... it seemed... it seemed the thing to do. Besides, once I was there, at Nanda Parbat, I'm not really sure I could have said no," Laurel explained. "I mean - the League isn't really going to stay secret if they let people leave their secret headquarters."

Diggle chuckled hollowly, "I suppose there is that. And I'm guessing they don't just let you cancel your club membership either."

"No. You leave the League by dying, or by having Ra's al Ghil release you from your oath. When I... when I found out Oliver was alive, and then faked my death to the League... well, I didn't ask for release. But I was already ready to..." she trailed off. "Settle for it not being fake, before I found Oliver again," Laurel said. Diggle's eyes widened a moment, but only a moment as he nodded in understanding - not just in the what she meant, but Oliver could tell Diggle understood _why_ Laurel felt like that, putting the pieces together, anyway.

"And now this Nyssa is here to make you come back, or die?" Diggle asked, sounding like he knew the answer.

"She doesn't want to... the 'or die' part, anyway," Laurel said softly. "But her monster of a father will make her do it. And she'll listen. The League is all she knows."

"You guys mentioned that the other Archer was League too. I heard that much, figured it was just one more secret you wouldn't share." Diggle gave another hollow chuckled. "Is he here with her too?"

"I doubt it." Oliver said. "The League aren't hired killers. He said he was being sent..." Oliver frowned, "by the man who authored the list."

"I thought your dad authored that list," Diggle said, as confused as he'd felt when the Archer had said it.

"So did I. But he knew about it. Which means... my father didn't write it."

"Which begs the question - who did?" Diggle nodded. "So... two problems."

"Two problems," Laurel agreed. "Whoever that archer is... he said he wasn't acting on Ra's al Ghul's behalf either. He was trained by the League - and he was _good_. Still... if I hadn't frozen up, if I hadn't-" Laurel looked back to Oliver. "Ollie, it's my fault you got-"

Oliver cut her off. "No, it's not. He got the drop on me as much as anything else. It's not your fault Laurel."

"If I hadn't frozen up, if I'd moved sooner, I could have helped you take him out, and we could have stopped him... instead, I let him get away. Ollie... tonight, I'm the one who failed this city."

"If you did, so did I, Laurel," Oliver told her. "I'm the one he was calling out, I'm the one he clearly wanted dead more. I'm the one who let him take me down like that."

"He got away, sure, but you saved Oliver's life getting him to help instead," Diggle cut in. "He'll be back, and the two of you will be better prepared." He said. "Everything I've seen... seems like the two of you can handle just about anything."

"If I'm even alive when he comes back," Laurel said softly. "The League won't stop unless I can convince Ra's al Ghul to release me."

"If this Nyssa is going to try to kill you - and Oliver too, since he's not gonna just let you-" Oliver could tell where this was going, and could guess Laurel's response, and sure enough:

"No!" Laurel interrupted, loudly, then she repeated, softer, "No. Hurting Nyssa is off the table. Whatever else she is, she's... she's my friend. Practically another sister, as far as I'm concerned. And if anything happened to her, Ra's al Ghul would punish the offense against the League."

"Doesn't leave us a lot of options," Diggle pointed out, stating the obvious, then, "So how long until this assassin comes to... what would she even use on you?" Diggle asked. "If this is about you making a choice, she must've given you time."

"Arrows, swords, knives, garrottes, poison... Nyssa knows many ways of killing. She'll use whatever works." Laurel answered. "If she comes at me... I don't know. She said I had 48 hours to make my choice, to say my goodbyes. Goodbyes before I agree to rejoin the League, she's hoping, but..."

She trailed off, sounding a bit helpless.

"Laurel, just because she's-"

Even before she interrupted him, Oliver knew it was a futile gesture, but he had to try. He couldn't lose Laurel again, not to something preventable. He didn't want to hurt this Nyssa, not when Laurel cared this much about her, but...

It would always be Laurel first, before anyone else. First, last and always.

 _Killing a friend isn't easy, but... sometimes... sometimes you have to._ Slade's death was yet one more on his conscience, and of course, how utterly preventable the whole thing had been, if he'd just...

If he'd just been... smarter, faster, better... found any other way...

But he hadn't. And the thing that the Mirakuru had turned Slade into wasn't really his friend anymore anyway.

"Oliver, yes, just because she's a friend!" Laurel insisted. "It wouldn't work even if we tried it, and I'm not letting her die. Even if you _could_ do it right now, in your condition. Nyssa is the only reason I survived in the hell that was the League for as long as I did. And I was the first friend she's ever had, and I abandoned her. I abandoned her like her mother, like her sister, like anyone else she's ever been close to. I'm not going to kill her on top of that. Just because Slade died doesn't mean I can just... let Nyssa die."

Oliver wasn't surprised she'd grasped his own thoughts so easily. She always did - and of course, it was an obvious thought of him to have here.

Diggle perked up at the mention of another name, but thankfully he didn't pry. Yet. Slade was a conversation he never wanted to have to have.

There were a lot of those.

"What does this League, actually do? I mean, punish the wicked, from all the stories, but beyond that?"

"They're vigilantes, basically. The first organized vigilantes in history, possibly. They punish those who prey on the innocent, purge the world of the wicked... they focus their efforts on regions where law and order have broken down entirely, as those are the areas most in need of their efforts."

"So... parts of the third world, poorly controlled frontier areas, warzones and disaster areas?" Diggle suggested. Laurel nodded.

"But they do operate outside those areas when they feel the need - when someone draws their attention, or something threatens the League in some fashion. And for all their claims to fight evil... well, they think nothing of slaughtering entire villages to get one man, or anything else that stands in their way." Laurel went on. "But they still hold to their ideals."

"Ideals that wouldn't include playing mercenary for whoever wrote the list?" Diggle suggested.

"God no. The League would never let one of their own become a mercenary for _anyone_. The skills you learn at Nanda Parbat... well, you've fought me, Diggle."

"Don't remind me," the man winced. He had been improving, even more from his own high skill levels, fighting Oliver, but he'd given up on fighting Laurel after a few matches. Just like Laurel could beat him almost every time they sparred - his victories were usually down to sheer luck, or other things like that.

Diggle nodded, "But I can see why they wouldn't want people they trained like that running around selling their talents." He made the connection to his own career change from the military to private security. "Especially for the Assassin equivalent of Blackwater or Academi or whatever they're calling themselves these days."

"But my point," Diggle went on, "this other Archer you fought. He's gone mercenary. Which means the League should want to take him out too."

"And whoever hired him, right?" Oliver added, catching on to Diggle's point quickly. Laurel was probably right about Ra's al Ghul's response to Nyssa's death, and if she refused to make a fight of it anyway...

"And what we're doing here, Laurel... it's not like you've turned on the ideals of the League, even after leaving it. You're punishing the people who prey on the innocent of the Glades." Oliver went on. "I mean... it's a chance, isn't it?"

"What, sic the league on someone else?" Laurel shook her head, "They can multitask-"

"No - offer to take care of him for them. Convince Ra's to let you... us take care of him for them." Oliver suggested. He looked to Diggle, "That was where you were going, right?"

Diggle nodded, "Basically, yeah. If it would work."

Laurel inhaled a deep breath, then let it out, "I... I don't know. But it's an idea." She gave a hollow chuckle. "If only I knew a way to contact Nyssa and ask her now." Then she furrowed her brow. "Actually, I do know. I'll have to borrow Felicity, though."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "She'll probably. What would you tell her?"

"I know what alias she's likely to be using. Probably deliberately, to see if I can find her," Laurel explained. "I can have Felicity find out where she's staying. Do you think she'll be in the offices later today? It mean, it is Christmas."

"She's Jewish, so she might be," Oliver told her, remembering what Felicity told him a few days ago when he'd wished her Merry Christmas. "I mean, it's not like Queen Consolidated shuts down entirely on December 25th. And she kind of strikes me as a workaholic. A bit, anyway."

"Well, then I guess I'll check later." She said softly. "But not right now." She looked to Diggle, "Could you give us a minute?"

Diggle nodded, "I'll be right outside at the door."

 **Tech Support, Queen Consolidated**

 **December 25th, 2012**

As it turned out, Felicity was in the office. The QC Headquarters were a lot emptier than usual, but there were people in the building, but looked like Felicity was the only person in tech support. Hopefully she wouldn't be too busy to help her.

Laurel knocked on the open door frame, announcing her entrance. The blonde looked up, recognizing her.

"Miss Lance - I didn't expect to... I heard about Oliver on the news... is he going-"

"Laurel, please. And he'll be fine, though he's going to have to take it easy for a long while. And he promises he's going to be less of an idiot on his motorcycle next time," Laurel said. "I'll let him know you asked how he was doing." She set the to-go coffee cup on her desk. "Oliver's told me how helpful you've been when he's had some questions about finding things out he couldn't."

"And you want me to be your IT assistance for something too?" Felicity asked, looking at her carefully. _I wonder just how suspicious she is about Oliver's bald-faced lies to her about what he's been having her do._

"Basically - but," she gestured to the coffee, "unlike my boyfriend, I come bearing gifts."

Felicity looked at the coffee. "This is from-"

"I checked your facebook page to see what your favorite coffee place was and what you liked to order. I figured if I was going to bribe you, I should go all the way."

Felicity smiled, "I also accept hot cocoa, monte cristos and Big Belly Burger."

"Duly noted," Laurel smiled back.

Felicity sipped at the coffee. "Thank you for this." She set the cup down. "So, what can I look up for you?"

"While I was at the hospital... I ran into an old friend, from college, said she was just at the hospital for something to do with her job. I was a little... distracted, getting back to Oliver's room and everything else, and so I didn't really stay to chat, or even ask her where she's staying while she's in town. Oliver basically kicked me out of his hospital room so I wouldn't stay cooped up in there all day, so... I decided I'd try to look her up." She shrugged. "But I tried the number that she used to have, and that, that doesn't work anymore. I was wondering if you could see where she's staying?"

Felicity's brow furrowed, but after a moment, she nodded. "I could give it a shot. What's her name?"

"Nyssa Raatko. R-a-a-t-k-o," Laurel said. Hopefully Nyssa would be using that name. It wasn't the only alias she used, far from it, but it was one of her common ones. Raatko was her mother's surname, according to her father, Nyssa had told her once.

"Can't be a whole lot of people with that name in Starling City," Felicity said, typing away at her computer.

"Let's see... a Nyssa Raatko did check into the Hochman Hotel last night. Does your friend have the kind of money to spend the night at a place like that?"

Laurel nodded, "Her family is old money." Well, the League was rich and Ra's al Ghul was at least a century old, so that counted. Close enough. She forced a convincing smile on her face. "Thank you for your help Felicity." She started to turn, then looked back, "I'll make sure Oliver comes bearing gifts next time he needs your help."

"I'd appreciate it," Felicity laughed, "But he doesn't have to. Happy to help."

Laurel waited until she was in the hall and dialed the Hochman. When the front desk picked up, Laurel spoke:

"I'm looking to reach Nyssa Raatko."

"I'm afraid we cannot just reveal the names of our guests-" the woman on the other end started, but Laurel interrupted, calmly.

"You can tell her it's Laurel Lance. She's been expecting a call from me, I'm sure."

The woman hesitated for a moment, then, "one moment please." she dealt with the hold music briefly, and then,

"Laurel," Nyssa said quietly on the other end. "I take it you have made your choice." She sounded hopeful.

"Not exactly. I have a proposition for Ra's al Ghul. We should discuss it, face to face. Neutral ground."

"You think you have something that will convince my father to release you from your oath." Nyssa said flatly. "You will not return."

"Nyssa, I told you already." Laurel said, wishing she could find some way to convince Nyssa to leave the League, to... turn her back on her monster of a father. "I'm not going back to the League. Not now, not ever. Not with everything that comes with it." She hesitated a moment, then added, "but this proposition... it will probably require someone to come back to Starling City again in a few months...at least the one time."

 _I would like to see you again, Nyssa... without the threat of death hanging over me._ Indeed, perhaps she could even convince Nyssa to come to Starling City more often. Every few months. It would be... a connection, still, to her friend, her sister.

Nyssa said nothing for a long moment, then, "The public library a few blocks from this hotel. At noon. I pray, for your sake, 'ukhti, that your proposition is one my father will accept."

"So do I, Nyssa." Laurel agreed. "Noon."


	13. Arrangements

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow

Unbeta'd.

No Oliver in this chapter, but I didn't really have a good place to fit him in with the way I wanted things to go. Having a scene at the end where Laurel told Oliver what Nyssa told her at the end just felt redundant.

Next chapter, we return to the regular chapters of following along with the show.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 13: Arrangements

 _One of the many things that seperate a would be hero without powers from one that does, a reason why most non-powered masked crime fighters are called vigilantes even when they often aren't, not in practice, not anymore, is the fact that would be masked crime fighters without powers are often forced to make deals that no superhero would find themselves in need of making._

 _Mere mortals have to make concessions to the limits of reality, after all._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Starling City Public Library, Main Branch**

 **December 25th, 2012**

Laurel was a little surprised that the library was open Christmas morning, but it was. There were longer lines at the check out desks, since there was only one person checking books out, but it was open.

A library was a deceptively good place for neutral ground to hold a covert meeting. The metal-detectors at the doors reduced the weapons one could bring - not that she or Nyssa needed weapons - and the cameras and sheer publicness of the place meant it was harder to double-cross someone without risking getting caught.

Not that she expected Nyssa would double-cross her. Nyssa was a woman of her word. But Laurel couldn't afford to be reckless. Not when she was dealing with the League.

The final advantage of a library for a meeting like this one was that no one looked in askance at you having a quiet, whispered conversation. It was a library, after all. Whereas having a whispered conversation in a coffee shop or the like might attract some attention. Some.

It was a few minutes before noon, and Laurel looked around the large open lobby, and after a moment, she saw Nyssa - wearing a black sundress this time, though still wearing the fedora - leaning casually against the railing on the third floor by the escalator. Laurel made her way up to the third floor, keeping an eye on Nyssa as she walked away into one of the aisles. Laurel followed her, and found the assassin sitting at a table amongst the shelves, several books nearby, two of them open, and a legal pad full of notes in neat, tight hand-writing next to them, looking as if she was in the middle of research and had just taken a break before returning.

"Laurel," Nyssa said softly as they she sat down. "I am gladdened to see you once more..." she took Laurel's hand in hers for a moment under the table, then pulled it away.

"And I you, Nyssa," Laurel said honestly. "You look better in anything other than the League Uniform, Nyssa." Laurel added. Not just in terms of fashionableness or the like, just... better. Less weighed down by the responsibilities and her status, her baggage from a monstrous and emotionally abusive father.

Happier, calmer. Almost like she'd lived a normal life growing up, instead of being raised in a brainwashing cult since birth.

"There is another former member of the League in this city," Laurel said after a moment. "One who, unlike I, has betrayed the code of the League, and sold himself as a mercenary... a mercenary for one who preys on the poor of this city."

"That is quite a charge," Nyssa said. "For what do you offer as proof?"

"He wore the garb of the league, he fought like a member of the league... and he recognized my garb and training. He told me himself that he was not here on Ra's al Ghul's behalf. I swear on the life of my parents, on my honor, that I speak truly." Laurel said, folding her hands on her lap as she leaned in to speak quietly.

Nyssa looked at her closely, then nodded. "I have never known you to lie to me, Laurel... and I do not think you do now. What proof do you offer that he has sold himself."

"You know of what Oliver is doing, of the 'Hood', targeting the wealthy and powerful of this city, forcing them to make recompense against their victims or die?" Laurel doubted Nyssa would have come to Starling City without looking into what was happening in the city. And the League had to know Oliver was the Hood. They knew she was the Banshee.

"I am aware. His methods lack true refinement, but they seem to be having an impact."

"Oliver is working from a list... a list of the most corrupt elites in the city. It belonged to his father... but Robert Queen didn't write the list. Someone else did. This other former member of the League... he took innocents hostage and forced Oliver to come to him... during the fight, he said that the man who wrote the list had sent him to kill Oliver. Kill us, since I knew about it too."

"Whoever wrote this list has had a copy for years, and done nothing with it. He only ever went after those who capitulated to the Hood's demands. Covering the tracks of whoever was behind the list." That had to be it, after all. Someone had the list.

 _Blackmail?_ That's the only thing that made sense, the only reason why someone would have a list of the wealthiest and most corrupt in Starling City, and not be using it to take them down. But blackmail alone seemed unlikely to be enough for murder.

 _And how did Robert Queen get the list?_

There were too many questions they didn't have an answer to, but to find the answers, she had to convince Nyssa.

"And your offer is to eliminate this former member of the League? Why would my father agree to have you deal with him, rather than simply dispatch others to do it for him?" The question would seem to suggest skepticism on Nyssa's part, but she could see the glimpse of hope in Nyssa's eyes. Nyssa wanted her to come back to the League, but Laurel knew her friend wanted to avoid having to kill her even more, and if there was a way she could do that...

"You didn't even know he existed until I told you about him. He's obviously not publicly come back from the dead like I did." He had to have faked his death to evade the League. "And if he's working for the man behind the list... well, Oliver and I will remain in his sights."

"You propose to be bait to draw this man out." Nyssa concluded.

"Something I can hardly be if I'm drawn back into the League, or dead." Laurel pointed out. "That's my offer. I may have broken my oath to the League, but this man broke his oath, and violated the code. He's sold the skills you gave him to aid those who prey on the innocent. To aid an evildoer. Surely he is worth far more than me."

Nyssa inhaled sharply, then nodded, slowly. "Those who betray the League in that way are truly the worst of the oathbreakers. I shall carry your offer to my father, 'ukhti." She closed her eyes a moment, "I believe it possible he may accept it - to release you from your oath in exchange for this man's punishment."

"I hope so." Laurel said. "I know... I know this isn't what you wanted, but-"

"I want you to be alive. I want you to be happy, Laurel. I wish you could be both with the League, but you are happier here, away from the League, then you ever were within it. And here, you have your beloved."

"You can always return to visit, when you can," Laurel said softly. "I'd like to see you again, once this is over. Like I said, Nyssa, I love you like another sister. I will always care for you."

"I do not know if it would be possible, but... I would like that," Nyssa said, with a slight tick of her lips that almost looked like the start of a smile.

 **Starling City Public Library, Main Branch**

 **December 25th, 2012**

 _Well, that went nowhere._ Not that she'd really expected it to. Everything she'd known had suggested that the suspect had been estranged from his sister for at least two years, but she'd had to try, and she'd been hoping she'd get _some_ sort of lead.

As she made her way towards the escalators to get back down to the ground floor, she took a quick shortcut through the shelves, and passed several tables, then, out of the corner of her eye...

 _Laurel?_

She hadn't expected to see Laurel here, in the library. Not with Oliver's accident. Then again, maybe she just needed a distraction.

Sara pulled up short and took a few steps back, looking back down to the table furthest from here, and sure enough, there was her sister, talking quietly to a woman with long dark hair. She could only see the woman's back from this angle, but she looked to be wearing some sort of black dress under a sweater-jacket of some sort, and there was a fedora resting on the table next to her.

 _Really? Oh come on, nobody can pull one of those off._ Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones was just about the only one who could.

She was about to leave her sister to it - she did have work to do and it wasn't Laurel's job to keep her posted on everything she was doing - when the two other women stood up and Sara got a good look at the other woman's face.

Sara's breath caught in her throat and for a moment she feared she wasn't going to start breathing again.

 _Ohshitshe'shot_.

For a long moment, Sara felt like she was just realizing she was into girls all over again because holyshit. The other woman had slightly tanned skin, and even though the sundress and her jacket covered her arms, she could tell by the way the woman walked that she was well-muscled, if obviously lithely so. Maybe a runner's physique? She looked at the woman's face again, trying to understand just what it was about her that had her reacting like that.

It was hard to say - the woman had sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw and dark, expressive-looking eyes, full lips... it was her eyes that really drew Sara's gaze. There was something intense there, and Sara felt it hard to look away from them for a moment. Her long dark hair was mostly straight apart from curling a little at the bottom, and it framed her face, drawing attention to it even more.

"Laurel," Sara said, finding her voice as she made to take a step forward towards the other two women.

"Sara, what are you doing here?" Laurel asked, a weird, almost worried note underlying an otherwise normal, cheery-sounding tone.

"I was just - had to ask one of the librarians questions about a case. I figured you'd be at the hospital still."

Laurel shook her head, "I needed a bit of a distraction, and Ollie is still sleeping off all the pain medication half the time so..." she shrugged.

"How he doing then?"

"About the same. Wanting to leave, but the Doctors are making him stay at least another night and Mrs. Queen insisted he listen to them that much. But, I mean, you know Oliver." She chuckled, and this, at least, sounded genuine.

"That I do. Who is your friend?" Sara asked, looking over to Nyssa again. She saw Nyssa giving her what looked like an appreciative look, and Sara - who never had the best gaydar - found herself really hoping Nyssa wasn't a false positive. Not that it probably would actually have a chance to matter, but still.

It would be a waste if this woman was straight.

"Sorry, right. Sara, this is Nyssa Raatko, she's an old friend from college. We ran into eachother at the hospital, actually. Nyssa, this is Sara, my sister." Laurel gestured back and forth.

"Charmed," Nyssa held out a hand and Sara accepted it and shook it firmly. The other woman's strong, firm - but not crushing - handshake that only made Sara think Nyssa was gay even more. _Oh please let her be gay._

What? Sara never claimed to not be a bi disaster sometimes.

And her accent was nice too.

"Nice to meet you, Nyssa. That's a really pretty name," she observed, not even meaning it as an attempt at a flirt. It was just a pretty name.

"Thank you. Laurel's told me a lot about you," Nyssa said. "I'm afraid I must be on my way, however," she said.

"Right, of course," Sara stepped out of Nyssa's way and watched her walk over to the Escalator. Once Nyssa was out of immediate earshot, Sara turned to her sister. "So... Nyssa... is she single?"

Laurel looked at her, surprised and a little confused, judging from her expression. "Sara!"

"What, I'm just asking," Sara countered. "I mean... tell me she's not straight. Please, she can't be."

"No... she's gay, you're right about that. But... Nyssa's just visiting Starling City a few days for work, and... she's... I don't think she's your type." Laurel said, hesitantly.

Sara shook her head, turning to look where Nyssa had been as she'd walked away, even though she couldn't see the woman anymore. "No... no..." Sara chuckled, "She's definitely my type."

"Nyssa's not the type for relationships - and she's... she's..." She trailed off, clearly having trouble finding the right words. "She's a great friend, but... look, it's just not a good idea." There was something... odd, about her insistence. Laurel didn't seem like she was lying, but it did seem like she was hiding something. Something big.

 _Why isn't it a good idea?_ If she didn't know her sister as well as she did, she'd think it would be some sort of underlying uncomfortableness Laurel had with Sara finding a woman hot right in front of her, but she did know Laurel better. It wasn't that...but then, what was it?

 _She means well, whatever it is she's being hung up on._

Sara rolled her eyes, "Laurel, I appreciate you're trying to pull some sort of protective big-sister act, but it's not like I was going to run after her and ask her out to dinner." Though Sara kind of wanted to ask her to coffee or... something. "She's just... hot."

"Alright," Laurel smiled a little ruefully. "Fair enough. She never did lack for company at night when she wanted it." She changed the subject, somewhat abruptly, again, with that... evasiveness from moments before. "Anyway, since you're here... do you have to get some lunch? My treat?"

"Something quick, sure," Sara agreed.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **December 25th, 2012**

Lunch with Laurel had been good. It was always nice to spend time with her sister. But the whole meal, she couldn't get the weird evasiveness about the way Laurel had been when it came to Nyssa beforehand out of her head.

 _What is it that's wrong with her that Laurel would be warning me off over?_ She doubted Laurel would be friends with her if Nyssa had done something really wrong, so it couldn't be that. But then... what was it?

Ultimately, of course, Sara knew that it really wasn't her business. She'd only just met this Nyssa and she had no right to know everything about this woman and whatever it was that supposedly meant she shouldn't even consider Nyssa.

And while she was curious about Nyssa... that really wasn't the point. The point was her sister. Laurel was not one to play coy, or be evasive, but... she had been there, sort of. Which, the more she thought about it, was just the latest in a string of incidents just like that, and of Laurel being... very different from the sister she'd known five years ago.

 _Five years on an island alone with just one person is going to change anyone, but..._ some of the things she'd seen her sister do...

That didn't seem to apply.

 _Alone with just Oliver... and whoever tortured them._ That part was the most chilling, and the part Laurel had been the most evasive about. Every time she'd tried to get Laurel to open up about it, Laurel would close off in a way she'd never seen before. And then she'd change the topic or just... leave. And Tommy had said Oliver wasn't any better.

Torture changed a person, she knew that. But still...

Laurel didn't lie, but Sara was sure her sister had done that more than once recently. She'd lied about where she'd been, what she done at various times... but what about? And for what reason? She'd lied about how she'd been able to fight off that Triad assassin, she lied about how she'd gotten this or that 'pulled muscle'...

There were perfectly rational excuses for everything, but taken together, with this latest instance...

Sara started to wonder what her sister was hiding, and just how, if at all, this Nyssa fit into things.

Inhaling sharply, Sara shoved aside her case notes. She needed to do at least one thing before she could get back to work - she'd been staring at the things for twenty minutes and all she'd gotten was the words blurring together as she kept getting distracted.

Laurel was hiding _something_ when it came to the way she'd talked about Nyssa in the context of Sara finding her hot, and while it was something that made her feel a bit weird, Sara decided to look Nyssa up in the SCPD database. It could get information from police departments and federal agencies... if this Nyssa Raatko was wanted for a crime or suspected for a crime or was connected to something shady...

She didn't believe Laurel would be friends with a criminal, cover up a crime, not turn Nyssa in if she was a criminal, but...

Well, it was the best thing she had for looking the woman up and trying to find out what it was that got Laurel so... weird.

Unfortunately, after running the name through every option she had, she came up with... nothing.

Suspiciously nothing, actually. The woman had no social media and wasn't mentioned on any social media as far as she could tell, anyway, it wasn't like she was an expert on this - hard to believe in this day and age, but not impossible. But there was nothing on her... anywhere. Nearly so, anyway. She existed, and... that was about it?

After a moment, she decided to take a step further and talk to the Department's tech guru, Kelton. Maybe he would be able to find something. He knew this sort of researching people online better than she did.

 _Or maybe you're just overreacting._ She did find nothing, after all. Not everyone had a large online presence..

But Nyssa looked to be about Laurel's age, and if she really was her sister's friend from college...

Well, it seemed hard to believe she had _no_ mention anywhere online, had nothing in any database she could look at that the SCPD had access to.

 _I hope I'm just overreacting._

 **Starling City Public Library, Main Branch**

 **December 26th, 2012**

"I have spoken to my father," Nyssa said quietly once they were both seated.

"You're not killing me, so I consider that a good sign," Laurel said, trying to smile and make a joke, but the whole thing fell flat even as she said it. She was anxious, her body bouncing with nervous energy in a way it hadn't for a long time, not since she'd overloaded on caffeine while cramming for exams in college. It would be wrong to say she was terrified, but...

Her life very possibly hung on a knife's edge here. Ra's al Ghul was a monster, barely human as far as she was concerned, and she was relying on his sense of mercy. It would be laughable if the stakes weren't so high.

"He found your proposal... intriguing, and he has sent me to make a counter-offer."

"Counter offer?" Ra's al Ghul did not bargain. He didn't negotiate... Laurel forced herself to take a deep breath as her hands balled into fists in her lap, her entire body feeling board-stiff. But he wasn't refusing the idea...

She could only hope it was enough.

"Let me make the whole offer before you respond," Nyssa cautioned, and after a moment, Laurel nodded. That didn't feel like a good sign, but... she had to hear the whole thing out. Nyssa nodded back and continued: "Ra's al Ghul will not release you from your oath." Laurel's heart leapt into her throat and it was all she could do not to say **something** in response. She dug her nails into her palm and bit the inside of her cheek against the urge to...

She wasn't even sure what. A thousand possible things to say in response ran through her mind, and none of them seemed adequate.

"Not yet," Nyssa finished, and Laurel realized her entire freakout had taken place within the split-second between Nyssa's words.

She took another breath, forcing herself to go slow so she didn't start hyperventilating, her heart pounding in her throat.

"He is intrigued by your offer, however, and he knows who this other... Dark Archer must be. It is a man he released from his oath, one of the few." Nyssa kept talking as Laurel's mind raced with the possibilities, so many it was hard to even think a coherent sentence.

"But this man, Al Sa-her, swore to uphold the ideals of the League, follow it's code. And my father trusted him to keep to it. If what you say is true - and it seems to be it must, as it does to Ra's al Ghul - that trust was poorly placed. The deal he then offers is simple: kill this man, this traitor to the League, within six months."

 _Al Sa-her_. The Magician.

That was a name she'd heard, once, in the League, in a murmured, overheard whisper. Once. He was one of the horseman of Ra's al Ghul. _No wonder I couldn't beat him on my own..._ Laurel nodded.

She knew nothing about the man beyond that. But with a name like that, he was presumably skilled at trickery - all members the League used deception and misdirection like a weapon all on it's own, but if this 'Magician' excelled at such tactics...

It would be a tough fight. But Laurel could do it, with Oliver's help.

Six months to find and kill him. She hated the idea of killing him herself, but if she had to, she would. If it was the only way... and at least it would be a man who unquestionably deserved nothing but death.

Even as she thought that, though, another part of her mind rebelled, rejected, knowing how much that sounded like the rationalizations she'd made when she'd first started killing for the League...

 _I don't have a choice. If I can, Oliver can kill him... he'll do it, even if I don't ask him to._ She hated the idea of OIiver killing for her, but he was still a good man while doing it, even if he refused to admit it. If she'd kept killing as part of the League, she'd never have been able to ever be or do good again. That part of her had nearly atrophied away.

Nyssa had been the only thing keeping it alive as long as it had, but...

Then she swallowed, registering the full meaning of what Nyssa had said. "And if I don't kill him in six months?"

"Then _you_ will suffer the penalty for betraying your oath," Nyssa said, her voice cracking just a tiny bit. Laurel unclenched a fist and moved her hand across the table, taking Nyssa's hand for a moment, realizing that Nyssa was just as anxious as she was, even if she barely showed it.

"You, and your family, and those you hold most dear," Nyssa finished. "Ra's al Ghul will not look kindly on your failure to fulfill a deal you offered to be released from an oath you swore on your own life."

Laurel closed her eyes and took another breath, somehow able to pull it off. Her heart started to slow down, and even her nerves seemed to lessen, despite what she'd just been told. The Sword of Damocles that had been hanging over her head now hung over her father, her sister, her mother, Oliver... probably Oliver's family too. She should be even more panicked, but...

 _What would that accomplish? For me? For them?_

It wasn't like his demand was even unprecedented in the League's history. Supposedly, every Ra's al Ghul, when they take the name and position of their predecessor, was supposed to kill their family, destroy their home village or some equally destructive proof that they truly had abandoned their previous identity.

And the League firmly believed in collective responsibility and punishment.

"What is Al Sa-her's name? His name outside the League?"

"My father does not want you to know, and nor do I know it." Nyssa said. "I know Al Sa-her. He came to Nanda Parbat when I was but eight years old." She smiled a little, the corner of her mouth ticking up almost imperceptibly, "He pulled a coin from my ear, and I gave him the name. He was only with the League for two years, but somehow..." she shook her head, "He was a driven man. He became a master in many of the Arts of the League."

Laurel swallowed. Well, that would be harder.

But on the other hand, the same case she'd made to Nyssa yesterday held - sooner or later, whoever was hiring this... Dark Archer would send him after Oliver and her.

"What can you tell me about him? What he looks like?"

"It was two decades ago, Laurel," Nyssa pointed out, then shook her head. "His hair was brown, his eyes blue. Taller than most, but not so tall as to truly stand out for it, at least here in a place like Starling City. White skin. Were I to see him again, I might recognize him." She shook her head again. "But I remember how much he was driven... he lost someone dear to him before he came to the League. In hindsight, I wonder if he hoped perhaps to die, in the League. But he did not. And I know that Starling City is his home."

 _Well, that doesn't narrow it much, but..._ It was something, at least. In theory. Maybe. Not really, but perhaps if they found some further clue, or hint...

Well, every bit of information was useful.

"Instead, Ra's al Ghul released him." Laurel murmured, wondering why the Demon's Head would have made such an agreement.

"I do not know why, but he did, yes." Nyssa nodded. "Al Sa-her is dangerous, Laurel. Even now, this long after..." but then she smiled, not just a tiny uptick either. "But your cause for fighting... I believe your purpose will carry you further than whatever base greed motivates Al Sa-her now."

"I will have a lot to fight for when we face him again," Laurel nodded. Then she swallowed again. "Six months to find and kill him."

"Six months," Nyssa nodded. "I will return to see if you are making progress at least once in that time."

Laurel smiled. That much, at least, was unambiguously good news. "That... that's -" she struggled to find the right words, but finally just settled on: "Thank you."

"It was your own will and drive that saw you make the offer, Laurel. Whatever else, you have always shown a will to survive, succeed and thrive. It is why I took you into the League in the first place. Even when you stumble, you keep fighting." Nyssa gave her another small smile, then leaned in, with a bit of a conspiratorial whisper.

"When next I come, if you have suspects for the identity of this Dark Archer... show me pictures, and I will see if any resemble the Al Sa-her I knew."

Laurel blinked, shaking her head quickly and violently for a split second as she processed Nyssa's offer.

Nyssa al Ghul was not one to disobey her father. Argue with him, yes, she'd heard that much happen more than once. Try to sway him. And she was not always happy with his decrees, but to outright disobey?

"I thought-" Laurel started, but Nyssa shook her head and held a finger to her lips, as if to finish the sentence might draw her father's attention.

"I wish you to live, Laurel. If you cannot live in the League, I will do all I can to see you live outside it."

"Thank you," Laurel said, now her own voice cracking a little. She leaned over, across the table and pulled Nyssa into a hug, which her friend, her sister in all but blood, returned awkwardly, the gesture unfamiliar to her. "Thank you," Laurel said again. "Thank you, 'ukhti." _My sister._

Whatever else happened, that's what Nyssa would always be.


	14. Glancing Heat

**Disclaimer:** I know I don't have to include these, and yet I do, chapter after chapter, fic after fic. They hold no legal value, really.

But it's an old force of habit, I suppose.

Anyway, it's not mine, moving on.

 **Author's Note:** I'm guessing some of you might not be as fond of these shorter chapters that I've been doing for a bit, covering a 'half episode' rather than a whole one, and I can appreciate it can be a bit annoying with these 'building up' chapters covering the first part of the episode rather than the action, but due to the limits of my schedule, breaking bigger chapters up is going to be the way things go for me in general. The best way to keep me writing is to keep to solid deadlines of 'a chapter of something once every week or so', and that means shorter chapters. So we'll see the other half of "Burned" in the next chapter, including a lot less Sara Lance POV - as this chapter turned out to have a lot more of that than I planned. Hopefully you're all still enjoying my version of Sara Lance.

Unbeta'd.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 14: Glancing Heat

 _What makes someone become a vigilante, a superhero? Powers or a particular set of skills alone aren't enough, of course. Leaving aside all the supervillains, not even every law-abiding individual with powers feels inclined to put to use as a hero, fighting crime and saving lives, certainly not as a full-time use of the time. It takes a certain kind of person - often who experienced the right sort of thing._

 _The concept of the 'origin story' has a strong purpose in the popular imagination of masked heroes, but when does someone's 'origin story' end? Did Oliver Queen's Origin Story end when he returned to Starling City and took up the mantle of the Arrow? Or did it end after the first year on Lian Yu, after the defeat of Edward Fyers and his mercenaries? Or maybe at the end of the second year?_

 _And what of Laurel Lance? Did it begin with the defeat of Slade? Or after she left the League of Assassins? Did it end when she returned to the city, as with Oliver?_

 _Both Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance had many defining moments that helped make them who they were when they returned to Starling City, but one can argue that they had just as many defining moments once they returned home. At what point do defining moments stop being part of 'Origins?'_

 _Is an Origin Story a single story, or many? Is 'The Origin Story' as a concept anything more than a post facto narrative designed to make neat and tidy complicated and messy events that happened in real time, in lives that defy simple story structure?_

 _And of course - can these questions be answered without countless underlying unfounded assumptions?_

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **The Foundary**

 **February 6th, 2013**

Six weeks.

Six weeks since 'the Dark Archer' beat him and left him in the hospital. Since he'd failed to stop him. As much as Laurel took the blame on herself, Oliver knew that it was his fault. He'd failed Starling City that night, by letting the other archer take him down, leave him hospitalized and then unable to fight at all for four weeks while he recovered.

Six weeks since he'd found out that List, the last thing his father had ever given him, the thing he'd used as the centerpiece of his crusade, hadn't even been written by his father. But by someone else. Someone with enough disregard for innocent life to hire the Dark Archer to kidnap innocents and hold them hostage to take him out.

Someone who had been once part of the League.

Six weeks since Nyssa al Ghul had come to Starling City and given Laurel an ultimatum - return to the League or be killed. Six weeks since Laurel had been left with death hanging over her head, in a way that had almost been a relief. Laurel had tried to hide it, but Oliver had known the lurking fear of the League coming for her once she 'came back' from the dead had been a constant threat in her awareness, always hanging at the back of her thoughts.

Six weeks since Laurel had managed to convince Ra's al Ghul, through Nyssa, to let them find and punish the Dark Archer for selling his skills he learned in the League, for using them for evil ends.

In a way, then, Oliver was almost relieved and glad he'd failed to kill the Dark Archer, once Laurel had told him the deal she'd managed to make. He was less pleased to know Ra's al Ghul knew exactly who it was, and was unwilling to tell them.

 _It feels like he's just playing a game, trying to see who wins._ Which didn't sound anything like the Ra's al Ghul he'd heard of from his reputation before reuniting with Laurel.

But it sounded a lot like the petty, abusive, domineering and egocentric monster Laurel had always painted him as, the times she'd gotten off on a rant about him and how he'd treated those under him in the League - Nyssa, yes, but all the members of the League suffered under his leadership, according to Laurel.

Either way, it was that fact, the impending six month deadline, that had made Oliver get back into the fight as soon as he was physically able. There was no time to waste. The people on the list needed to be taken out or taken down, so that the Dark Archer would be sent after the Hood and the Black Canary again.

Nyssa's promise to look at pictures had prompted Oliver to try to cross reference everything Nyssa had told Laurel about Al Sa-her.

Anyone who was a native of Starling City, and had left the city somewhere in or around 1993, came back in or around 1995, brown hair, blue eyes... it had, of course, given them a lot of hits of dubious connection. It had even, laughably, turned up Tommy's father.

Well, maybe not laughable, but it had been absurd.

Malcolm Merlyn hadn't been a great dad to his son after Tommy's mother died, or at all since, but he was hardly a murderer.

So they'd been left with trying to draw him out, and maybe get some more clues that way. Assuming that together, expecting, Laurel and he couldn't take the Dark Archer out. _I'll be the one to kill him._

Oliver hated the terms of the deal, but it was the best deal they were likely to get. And short of running and running forever, it was all Laurel could hope for. But the threat hanging over Laurel's parents, her sister... anyone else Laurel 'held dear', whatever that meant.

(Thea, possibly, he had considered. His sister hadn't really settled down despite his efforts to try to help, but she did seem to return to treating laurel as a big-sister figure as she had once before, and Laurel had done her best to get Thea to stop acting out.

Their efforts had been... mixed).

That threat, Oliver hated. But it meant they had to act, and act quickly. And Oliver couldn't let Laurel kill the Dark Archer. She'd claimed she was okay with it, that he would deserve it, and he would, but after everything Laurel had done to leave killing behind...

He couldn't let her do that to herself. Not if he could manage to be the one to land the killing blow first.

He'd nearly died at the hands of the Dark Archer. He couldn't leave Laurel to handle this alone, his family...

He couldn't throw himself into this work so recklessly. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't hold back. He couldn't even just focus on Walter, because he had no leads. The Hood couldn't go around threatening people for information.

In the two weeks he'd been physically back in it, Oliver had still found himself hesitating. Taking it slow. Spending more time stalking the targets, examining the surroundings even more than before, taking a whole day and night to prepare a single location, mapping even more escape routes than he had before. Casing each location, where he'd target the latest person on the list.

But two weeks, it had only been two names. He was moving too slowly, since both men had immediately surrendered. All his caution had been unnecessary.

But he couldn't stop himself from taking the caution.

Oliver closed his eyes, inhaled sharply, then readied himself, turning on the tennis ball shooter, and then -

Miss.

 _Damnit._

Again.

At least he got the second one. Again.

"Hey," Diggle asked, crouching down to pick up the tennis ball. "I thought the rehab was done."

"It is," Oliver said, putting the bow down, pulling the quiver off his back. "Just... having some blockage. Nothing that's stopped me so far."

"Blockage?"

"That's what Laurel calls it... she's not wrong." Oliver set the quiver on the table next to the bow. He changed the subject before Diggle could get on him about it like Laurel had. He didn't have a solution, an answer. He just...

He needed to keep working past it. He couldn't do anything else. Not with the deadline looming over Laurel and her family.

"Anything on Walter?"

Diggle shook his head, setting the ball down on a different table. "My contact at the bureau struck out, same with Interpol. Either Walter doesn't want to be found..."

"Or someone doesn't want him to be found, I know," Oliver frowned. "And no ransom, no demands, nothing from kidnappers."

"Oliver, you know I hate to say it-" Diggle started, hesitantly...

Oliver closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, "I know. He's probably dead by now. Even the Bratva has nothing." He sat down, dropping his head into one hand.

"Nothing on Walter, nothing on the Dark Archer..." Oliver pulled his hand down across his face.

"You've got four and a half more months," Diggle said, trying to sound reassuring. "You're going after the List. Even Laurel's working the list. You'll get something." And Laurel was. She wanted to focus on cleaning up the Glades, and she still was, hitting gangs and thugs most nights, but she'd also gone after two people on the list. She'd focused on people who were directly hurting the Glades, which still covered a lot of people on the list.

And she'd done like he'd done with Adam Hunt, playing Robin Hood by taking some of the ill-gotten gains. One of her targets had been left trussed up in front of a police station with enough evidence that even the police and DA couldn't ignore him, and the other had voluntarily donated his money made on the suffering of the Glades to several important charities serving that community, including some place called CNRI. It was a legal aid office for the poorest of the city - Laurel had been thinking about working there, if she'd been able to graduate law school.

 _If I hadn't invited her on the yacht._ Oliver only let himself stew on that thought for a few moments - any longer and he's stay stuck on it.

"I have to hope we will. On both." Oliver stood, "Why would someone go after Walter?" He covered the lower half of his face with his hand a moment.

"Could be targeting the company, your family... maybe he fired someone with a short temper," Diggle suggested. "We should look at Walter. See if he was involved in anything."

"Something illegal?" Oliver shook his head, "No. Not Walter. He'd never." Walter was one of the good ones. He wasn't on his father's list, and despite looking, hard, Oliver couldn't find any skeletons in his closet. Not even the odd tax dodge or possible case of insider trading.

 _Not my father's list..._ he reminded himself.

Which opened so many questions Oliver had to ask, and yet, was afraid to learn the answers to.

Who wrote the list? How did his father come by it?

"Starling City is full of corrupt rich folks. Why would Walter be any different?" Diggle pointed out. "Wouldn't have to even be anything serious - just knowing something someone wanted to keep hidden."

"Something would have come up. I looked when I first came back. I *wanted* to find something." Oliver said. "At first, anyway."

Diggle gave a small chuckle, though he cut it off after realizing what he was doing: "Bad reaction to coming home to a stepdad?"

"Something like that," Oliver agreed. He looked back at the small book sitting next to the computer, to the list. "I need to move faster. We're not going to provoke the Dark Archer to try coming at us again moving this slowly. Four names over the last six weeks? I need to pick up the pace again."

"Then you need to make sure you're at the top of your game," Diggle pointed out, picking up the tennis ball and tossing it lightly up in the air.

 _He's not wrong_.

Oliver picked up the bow and quiver, and nodded. "Toss it again, high, and step away." He wasn't going to take the chance of an missed shot hitting Diggle.

 **The Foundary**

 **February 7th, 2013**

Laurel didn't expect that Oliver would have any luck tempting his mother to come down and join Thea, herself and him for the movie and fast food, but he was trying, at least. She opened the bag and handed Thea her burger and fries before taking out her own and dipping her fry in the milkshake.

Thea rolled her eyes, "Someday, _someday_ , you are going to find someone else in the world who likes that too."

"But not today?" Laurel teased, taking a bite of her burger.

"No, not today." She ate one of her own fries. "So what's the movie Oliver got, anyway?" She nodded to the bag from the video store. Laurel was honestly stunned the video rental place was even still in business. Or that Oliver had gone there. He'd never actually done something so _plebian_ as renting a video for a family movie night when he was growing up. Laurel could hardly imagine Moira Queen going into a place like that.

He had had family movie nights as a kid, true, but then they went to the theater or just bought the movie to watch at home.

"Let's see," she took the movie out of the bag. "Due Date, staring Robert Downey Jr. and Zack Galifanakis," she almost stumbled over the name but managed to make it work.

"They're always funny," Thea noted. "Did you finally start catching up on everything you missed?"

"I've been trying," Laurel nodded, "I took your advice and started reading Us Weekly. Oliver still won't touch it."

"Of course," Thea allowed herself a small smile, and Laurel was at least glad to see that much from the girl. She was taking Walter's disappearance better than Moira was, but 'better' was a very relative term. And it wasn't hard to handle things better than Moira was right now.

Not that Laurel didn't understand why she was reacting like this.

"But it's surprisingly hard to catch up on five years of pop culture.

She turned at the sound of Oliver coming down the stairs, alone. Thea looked up as well, as he walked into the living room.

"No luck?" Thea didn't sound surprised.

"No." Oliver sat down, letting out a breath. He looked over to Thea. "Is this - is this what she was like after the Queen's Gambit?"

"Not quite, but close. At least, not at first," Thea said quietly, hands in her lap, voice soft, a bit distant.. "She tried to put up a brave face, after you and dad disappeared. But then, with no word, nothing happening... she spent more and more time at home. Stopped going out altogether, eventually. Now... she's skipped the brave face side of things entirely."

"How did she get out of it?" Oliver asked, probably hoping for some sort advice on how to help her now.

"Walter," Thea said, and Oliver looked at the ground, frowning. "One morning, he showed up, all stern and British-like, and told her," Thea smiled a little as she relayed the story, and Laurel couldn't help but make a small laugh as Thea started to imitate Walter's accent - not very well. Even Oliver smiled.

"Moira, get dressed, we're going out for lunch," Thea said, then dropped the bad accent, "and - it worked. I don't know how he did it." She let out a breath, and grabbed her fries again, eating one before going on: "You know, I've been thinking... what if this wasn't a kidnapping? What if Walter is just... having a mid-life crisis?"

 _Unlikely_. Oliver seemed to be mirroring her thoughts when he looked at Thea, eyebrow raised.

"Maybe he's in Bora-Bora, with some stewardess and an expensive sports car and he's too ashamed to call home and let us know he's okay." Thea started talking a little faster, "I mean... just because we haven't heard from him doesn't mean he's... gone, right?"

Laurel watched Oliver swallow slightly and then reach over to take one of Thea's hands for a moment. 'Right," he said. "Laurel and I... no one heard from us for five years. We came back."

"Hopefully Walter won't take that long, though," Laurel added.

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **February 7th, 2013**

Sara pulled her TV dinner out of the microwave, dropping it into the plate and shaking her hand as she cursed herself for grabbing too quickly. "Every goddamn time," she muttered, pouring a glass of water and heading over to the TV. She had some Netflix to bingewatch, and had time to actually do it, for a change.

Of course, since the universe had a perverse sense of humor when it came to one Detecte Sara Lance, halfway through her meal and halfway through the first episode she'd settled down to watch, there was a knock on her door. Sara waited for a moment, half-hoping whoever it was would go away, _I'm too tired to deal with anything right now._

They didn't. Instead, they knocked again, louder.

"Sara?" Tommy's voice called out, knocking some more."

"Coming! Hold your horses!" Grumbling under her breath, she walked to the door. "Merlyn, if you are going to try to drag me out to a bar or a club again, so help me I will shoot you with my service pistol and deal with the -" she cut herself off as she saw that Tommy wasn't alone in the hallway. There was an attractive, professional looking African American woman standing next to him. She looked like she'd been recently crying, and Tommy's expression was an out of place grave and serious one.

"Come in," she told them, stepping aside.

"Thank you," Tommy said, and the other woman followed him in. Sara closed the door. "This is Joanna de la Vega, one of the attorneys at dad's company, and a friend of mine. Joanna, this is Sara Lance. If anyone can help you, it's her."

"It's nice to meet you," Sara offered her hand to the woman, and she accepted it.

"And you," she said, her voice still a little cracked from whatever reason she'd cried recently. The last name 'de la Vega' sounded familiar, like she'd just heard it or read it recently, but she couldn't place it off the top of her head.

"Let's sit," she went over to her little used table and shoved the various letters, paperwork and other assorted crap off to one side. Once all three of them were sitting, Tommy started to explain:

"Joanna's brother is Danny de la Vega. he's a fireman-" Sara realized where she'd recognized the name.

"The fireman that died last night." Sara nodded to Joanna. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. But... I'm here because I don't think it was an accident. I think... I think he might have been murdered." Joanna explained, wiping a bit at her eyes. Sara felt her eyes widen and she turned to look at Tommy. He matched her expression, and after a moment, she nodded.

 _I'll hear her out._ Tommy wouldn't have brought her here if he didn't think there was something to it, and for all his slacker ways - at least until his dad had cut him off and he'd gotten a job helping Oliver build his club - he wasn't an idiot.

But Sara's immediate thought was the obvious one - she'd run into a few times in SCPD so far, and her dad had it more times. Some friend or relative or loved one died in an accident, or worse, committed suicide, and a person would come to the police, with an elaborate explanation as to why it was murder, it had to be murder.

Unfortunately, once in a very long while, they had a point. Which meant Sara felt like she had to give Joanna a chance.

Joanna did - she showed the fire report, and several other details about the equipment Danny was using. Turpentine that wasn't supposed to be present at the place on fire - that wasn'tt, as far as anyone could tell after the fact. His turnout coat should have been able to handle the - relatively - low heat of the fire.

It sounded convincing to Sara, but at the same time... she wasn't an expert on fires, and neither was Joanna.

"The fire did not exceed 250, according to the coroner, and the fire department itself. So how did he burn?" Joanna asked, her voice growing more firm as she laid out her argument, probably falling back on her habits as a lawyer.

Sara could think of a few explanations - the factory owner was lying about turpetine not being there, or someone else had put some there. Or maybe Danny's turnout coat was made of shoddy materials - which was worth investigating, because it could put other firemen at risk, could at least be the grounds for a lawful death suit or a criminal negligence charge.

"The SCFD insists it was just an accident, the risks of going into a fire. They're ignoring all of this!" Joanna finally raised her voice a little, brandishing the papers and threatening to spill them all over the floor.

"Joanna," Tommy said softly, putting his hand on her arm gently. Joanna closed her eyes a moment, and inhaled sharply, and Sara didn't miss the gesture. _Are they... dating?_ Tommy hadn't ever actually been one for 'dating', but that was a surprisingly intimate gesture, the way he did it, and the way Joanna responded immediately.

But Tommy would have told her if he was actually dating someone. So... probably not. _And this isn't the time to be thing about it._

"Sorry," Joanna said after a moment, opening her eyes.

"You don't need to apologize. I understand the reaction." Sara shook her head, "I can't promise anything. But I know a few people in the Fire Marshall's office. See why they're not looking into this... see if I can get them to look into it." She debated asking her dad to pull in a few favors to help her do that, but she decided to only try that if she had to. She didn't think her dad would be interested, for one. She held out a hand for the papers and the report, and Joanna handed them to her.

"Thank you," Joanna said softly.

"Let me get you something to drink," Sara said, standing up, "Tommy?" She gestured for him to come with her, and after a squeezing Joanna's hand for a moment, he followed her into the kitchen.

"Do you think she has a point?" He asked, in a low voice.

"She might," Sara allowed. "But the Fire Marshall's office and the Police Department don't always get along. Jurisdictional pissing contests and all that. There's a good chance I can't convince them to look into it." She held up a hand before Tommy could protest. "But I have some other options as well." Including one option involving a phone.

"Thank you," Tommy said sincerely. "Joanna - she's a good person. And from everything she ever said about Danny, he was too. They don't deserve this."

"Why did she even come to you about this?" Sara could help her curiousity. "Are you-"

"No," Tommy said quickly. Then, "Well... nothing we've put a name on. I mean, she works for my dad, I think neither of us want to go any further with it... everything that could go wrong." Sara could follow. Dating the bosses kid was a risky prospect for both parties. Especially when that dad was Malcolm Merlyn. He'd been cold five years ago, been distant since Tommy's mother died, really, but he'd only gotten worse after the Queen's Gambit sank. And if possible, the return of Oliver and Laurel had somehow made him an even bigger ass to his son, as evidence by him abruptly cutting Tommy off without warning.

"But she came to me because she knows I'm friends with you." Tommy went on. "She's at the end of her rope here. Looking into this is the only think keeping her from a total breakdown, I think."

"That is a surprisingly ignsightful and empathetic observation, Tommy," Sara couldn't help but tease, despite everything, and Tommy managed a half-forced self-depricating smile.

"It does happen from time to time."

"More than you like to admit." She grabbed a cup and poured water into it for Joanna. Then she have Tommy a small smile of her own, "Later, you're telling me all about this," she gestured from Tommy to Joanna. "I know I've been busy lately, and so have you, with Oliver's club, but, we should catch up."

"That would be fun."

Sara nodded. She contemplated offering Tommy and Joanna something harder than water, then decided against it. The last thing a grieving Joanna needed was alcohol, and if she offered them booze, she have a beer too. And while she could handle one beer, it was a bad idea.

Because she was going to have to go back to the station and get to work on this soon. She knew she wouldn't be able to let herself sit on it for long.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **Februrary 8th, 2013**

"Look, I appreciate that I'm not an expert on fires, Jack, but I am a cop, and I am pretty good at spotting murders. One suspicious death that might be an accident but there's reason to think it's not? Sure, accident away. But two? Leo Barnes died the same way Danny de la Vega did - complete with the hotter than it's supposed to be fire, and turpentine that shouldn't have been there!"

Jack, Sara's friend, or at least friendly point of contact, inside the Fire Marshall's office didn't seem to be buying it: "Look, Sara, I'm not saying this isn't a bit... unusual. But firefighters die fighting fires. It's the risk I took every time I went in, it's the risk we all take. Fire doesn't always work like it's supposed to. There's no witnesses of anyone at the scene that shouldn't have been, and no reason to believe there's anyone running around killing firefighters."

"So you're just going to ignore it?!" Sara demanded.

"Look, I'll look into what you're talking about when I get a chance, okay? I'm sure it's nothing, but I'll do you a favor and double-check, but it's not going to be for at least a week, okay?"

"If you're going to take that long, It's not going to be much of a favor," Sara said sourly. The more she'd looked into this last night and this morning - catching a quick nap on the couch in the breakroom at one point - the more she was convinced something was up. But no one she'd talked to seemed interested in listening.

Still, pissing off the Fire Marshall's office wasn't a great solution to the problem.

Sara sighed before Jack could say anything, "Look, maybe it is nothing. I appreciate that you're willing to look into it at all, I do. If a week is what you can do, a week is what you can do."

"I'll look into it," Jack promised.

"Alright," Sara exhaled, "Bye," she hung up.

 _No. I'm not waiting a week._ In another week, another firefighter might be dead.

There had to be something going on. Firefighting was dangerous, but these were both experienced guys who died, people who knew what to do, and they weren't even in especially risky fires, based on the reports from the Fire department she'd read. There own works made it clear that the fires shouldn't have burned that hot, shouldn't have killed Leo Barnes and Danny de la Vega.

But institutional bias and jurisdictional bullcrap was leaving the case hanging in the ether.

But Sara had an option for that. She pulled the phone the Black Canary had given her out of her pocket and headed for the alley exit of the department, out where some cops went out for a quick smoke. Thankfully, none of them were out there now. Sara dialed the number and hoped she hadn't alienated the vigilante by refusing to help her with the other archer.

"Detective Lance," the Black Canary's distorted voice said after a few rings. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you again."

"I wasn't really expecting to call," Sara admitted. "Seems like you two managed to deal with the other archer. Though I'm guessing your boyfriend got hurt bad. Dropped out comission for a month, didn't he?" She was still sure the Hood needed to go jail for his murders, needed to be stopped, but the fact that he was sparing people just as much as killing them made that more complicated than she wanted to admit.

The four weeks without the Hood had seen crime go _up._ Not by as much as it would have if the Blcak Canary had dropped off the grid too, but still.

He was doing good for the city. And no matter how much she believed in the system, the part of her that always rebelled about strictures and authority found his approach appealing. A dangerous appeal for a cop to have.

 _Vigilantes can afford to play judge jury and executioner. But cops can't._ There was more to her job than catching criminals, investigating crimes... her dad had always said Police were essential for keeping the peace in a city, and he was right. You had to have the trust of a community to do your job.

Once a cop goes cowboy, they lose that trust. In some parts of the city, cops got no trust, because they didn't deserve it. And every time some jackass cop in another city shot an unarmed black teenager, it only made her job harder when she had to go into poorer, minority-heavy communities.

And she couldn't even blame them.

Which is why she couldn't condone the Vigilante. He wasn't keeping the peace, he wasn't doing justice, he was just throwing a bloody vengeance on the city.

But she could appreciate his purpose, and almost be jealous of his options.

And wish she could accept his actions, at least to a point.

"You didn't call me to talk about the Hood," the Black Canary replied while Sara reflected - again - on the complexities of the situation. Interestingly, the Black Canary didn't respond with 'he's not my boyfriend', like she had before. _Guess she got tired of denying the obvious._

"Well, I wouldn't say no to you answering a lot of questions I have about him, but that's not why I called, yeah." She bit her lip a moment, then, "I need your help." She braced herself for a comment about how she had refused to help the Black Canary when asked. Instead, the vigilante sounded immediately co-operative.

"I'm listening,"

Sara didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. "Someone's murdering firefighters. But the Fire Marshall's office thinks they're both accidental deaths - firefighter dies fighting a fire, where's the crime?" It was a little more complicated than that, but at its core, that seemed to be the basis for them being unwilling to listen to her.

"And you want me to - what, investigate it?"

"You said you could do things the police can't. And this is something I can't do. This isn't my jurisdiction, and I only have so much ability to keep digging myself." Sara said. "Look, I don't really approve of what you or your boyfriend are doing or how you do it.. Especially not him. But you're both trying to help, and right now, that's good enough for me."

And even as she said it, she realized she meant it.

Sometimes, you had to prioritize, even as a cop.

"I'll find you. Keep your evidence on hand," The Black Canary said, and hung up. Sara sighed, and was about to head in when her own phone rang. Digging it out of her pocket and pocketing the Canary-phone, she answered:

"Lance here,"

"Detective Lance," Kelton's voice came through, sounding a bit... off. Like he was nervous, or something. "You know that name you asked me to run? Said it wasn't a huge priority, so I could hold off?"

"Yeah..." Sara said, hoping he really had found nothing. She'd almost forgotten about Nyssa Raatko over the last few weeks, with everything else she'd had to deal with.

"Well, I found something. And - look, just come down and meet me in Tech, okay?"

Sara frowned, pulled the phone from her ear and looked at it. "Kelton? What's going on?"

"I've got a Federal Agent here that sounds very upset with me for looking up that name, and very curious about where the hell you heard it." Kelton explained after a moment.

 _Federal Agent?_ And one that was reacting like that? That... was not a good sign.

Especially not for Laurel. "I'm on my way."

It was a quick trip to the basement and then into Kelton's office. The Federal Agent was a woman, short brown hair, a distinctly unamused expression on her face.

"Agent Lyla Michaels, A.R.G.U.S." The agent said crispy, showing her badge. Sara nodded.

"Detective Sara Lance, SCPD." A.R.G.U.S. she knew the agency existed, because her 'in case of terrorist attack' homeland security briefing had told her that in the case of a state of emergency or attack, A.R.G.U.S. - which had a major regional office in the city - would be able to give direct orders to the SCPD as needed.

What exactly they were was unclear - they seemed to be like a souped up CIA, but it was hard to say, since they also seemed to do stuff inside the country. They attracted rumors like all Inteligence Agencies, and they were more annoying than the FBI with how little they shared information.

"Would you care to explain where you heard the name Nyssa Raatko, and why you were looking into it?" Agent Michaels asked, putting her badge back into her inside jacket pocket.

"It came up while I was looking into a different case," Sara said, which was, technically, true. "Why does A.R.G.U.S. care?"

"Classified. Where did it come up?"

"CI mentioned that someone else mentioned it," Sara lied easily. She wasn't going to sick the Feds on her sister. "Who is Nyssa Raatko?" She asked again.

Agent Michaels had a sour look on her face for a moment, then nodded, "Like I said, classified. What I can tell you is that she's a wanted terrorist and assassin."

Sara was able to keep the shock that seemed to stop her heard from showing on her face, she was pretty sure.

 _Terrorist? Assassin?_ And Laurel-

 _She had to know, if she was dropping those veiled hints..._

"Where did you hear the name? Who is this CI?"

"I don't have to tell you, and I protect the secrecy of my CIs. Some Fed rolls up and starts talking to them, they're dead." Sara lied again.

Agent Michaels narrowed her eyes, "I can have you ordered to tell me," she threatened.

"Maybe. But you'll have to go up your chain of command and then back down the one that leads to me. If you want to tell me more about Nyssa Raatko, I'll tell you more about where I heard the name."

Agent Michaels shook her head, "No." She handed a card with her name, the A.R.G.U.S. logo and her number. "If you change your mind, call me. It would be best if you changed your mind before you're ordered to talk." The Agent moved for the door, and Sara stepped out of the way so she could leave. Once she was safely out of the room, she looked at Kelton.

"What the hell?"

Kelton shook his head, "No clue. I looked up the name like you asked, ran a little deeper, and hit an A.R.G.U.S. security alert. She's armed, dangerous and deadly, and wanted in relation to terrorist activity. The alert ddin't really elaborate beyond that."

"Thanks for running the name, Kelton," Sara nodded, mind racing. "Sorry it had a Fed crawling up your ass."

"It's not the first time I've made some Federal Agent annoyed I looked up information they thought was all their bailiwick."

"Feds for you," Sara nodded. She gave a quick goodbye, and hurried back to her desk.

 _Terrorist. Assassin. And laurel treated her like a friend._ Which could have all been an act for Sara's benefit, or she could have had no choice but to pretend... but she didn't think so. It seemed too geniune. For all her warning Sara off, Laurel had seemed intensely geniuine when speaking well of Nyssa otherwise.

 _How did she even meet-_

The Island. Laurel and Oliver weren't alone there, that much she knew now. Tortured. They'd survived - but no one had been on the island, purportedly, when Oliver and her sister were rescued. So...

Where had those torturers gone?

If Laurel treated a murderer like a friend...

 _Did she save their lives? Is she the one who taught Laurel how to fight that Triad assassin?_

Just how much did Laurel know? And just what exactly was Nyssa Raatko guilty of? More or less than suspected? And would A.R.G.U.S. actually have her ordered to say something by someone above her in the SCPD? Because she couldn't say the truth, and she'd need to give a _name_ of who told her, or come up with a fallback lie and say that the CI had been a lie in the first place.

Which wasn't any better, in terms of getting her out of this mess.

She needed to talk to Laurel, ask her, demand answers but...

How do you broach that topic?

 _Hey, Laurel, that hot friend of yours? Did you know she's a wanted terrorist?_

And did Sara really want answers? If Laurel was friends with a murderer and a terrorist...

What if she'd changed much, much more than Sara would have ever imagined?


	15. Scorched

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it.

This definitely felt like one of my weaker chapters. Sorry. I tried to tighten it up, but I could only do so much without taking forever in constant edit-mode (which can take months of paralyzation).

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 15: Scorched

 _Whatever the reason, whatever the purpose that drives a superhero to become a superhero, a vigilante to become a vigilante, the fact remains that they always live a life apart. They will have few people they can truly afford to be close to, especially if they live a secret identity. They will face the worst humanity has to offer on a regular basis._

 _They are isolated. Alone, all too often, or nearly so. And many have some form of tragedy defining their past, and they experience it in their time as a hero or vigilante - people they failed to save, disasters they failed to stop, friends and allies and loved ones dying or being driven away... they experience it all, all too often. It has a toll - all too many times when a hero becomes a villain it can be traced to these sorts of stressors. Eventually, when something finally has to give... something snaps instead._

 _Which is why, in an interesting way, many heroes, and especially many vigilantes have more in common with the villains they fight than the civilians they protect, especially after a while on the job. The role of tragedy or a profound sense of isolation, internalized otherness - these all help create monsters, villains, criminals._

 _Ultimately, for many vigilantes, the ones they fight are like mirrors into their own souls. Or parts of them, anyway._

 _It's not an experience many relish._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Verdant, Starling City**

 **February 8, 2013**

"Yeah, I just took the liberty of - well, of yelling at the contractor." Tommy explained, turning back to meet Oliver's gaze. "I told him if we didn't see any real progress, we'd bring in someone else to finish the job."

Oliver had heard the whole show - it was a lot more anger - well, a lot more _heat_ to the anger - than his good-natured friend usually displayed. Not that Tommy was never angry, or even heated, but he always kept it hidden, always tried to mask it behind and beneath the partyboy slacker rich kid demeanor.

Whereas for Oliver, it hadn't been a mask. It had just been who he was.

Even as he thought that, he could hear Laurel scolding him for thinking like that, as she had a lot, before the island and since.

"Good." Oliver nodded, "How is your friend? Joanna?" He raised an eyebrow as he asked the question, because this was the first he heard of this 'Joanna de la Vega' - and Tommy was not someone who was private about who he'd been with. He didn't shout it from the rooftops, but it wasn't like him to hide anything.

 _Then again, from what Sara told Laurel, he's as much hiding from it himself as anyone else._

Tommy's rueful expression at being called out for not sharing sooner was tinged with the gravity of what Joanna was going through, "She's... Going through the motions. They offered her time off work, but she refused. Took the one day yesterday, but she's back at the office now. I guess she wants to throw herself into the work as a distraction."

"There are probably worse ways to grieve," Oliver said, knowing more than a few of them himself. "Better ways too."

"Well, at least she's not doing what I did after the Gambit. Word of advice - parties, club drugs and booze do not make for a healthy grieving process," Tommy said, his casual tone as if he was discussing what he'd had for dinner the other night. Then he changed topic: "So... Sara told you?"

"She told Laurel, and Laurel told me," Oliver corrected. "What do you expect? This is the first time I've ever heard about you even thinking about-"

"Anything other than one-night-stands or friends with benefits, at best?" Tommy finished. "I suppose that is something worth talking about."

"How long has this been going on?"

Tommy shook his head, lowering his voice a little, "That would imply there's actually a 'this' to be going on..." he shook his head. "I met her a little over two years ago, originally. She came to bail me out after I partied a bit too hard one night. She was just another one of Dad's lawyers - man never comes down to bail me out himself, not that I blame him - but... she didn't judge me. Not the way the rest did."

He shook his head again, "things kinda went in fits and starts - she's a damn good lawyer, and she has a better heart than most of the people in Merlyn Global's legal division. I'm still kind of amazed they hired her, given that she has a soul." He shrugged, "I think Laurel would like her a lot, to be honest. She was always talking about being a lawyer - the good kind - and Joanna is one of those. Smart, driven, but has her feet on the ground, too."

Oliver could tell just how sincerely Tommy meant his words - the soft, almost silly little smile on his face that he clearly didn't realize was there as he described her.

Tommy let out a soft sigh, then frowned a moment, "We've been... something for maybe eight months now? But... I haven't said anything to anyone - I mean, she works for my Dad, so there's all sorts of problems there... Dad finds out, I wouldn't put it past him to fire her. And from her end... what if she's worried I'll get her fired if things ever- stop working?"

"Would you?" Oliver knew the answer, but he wanted to make sure Tommy did too.

"Of course not!" Tommy protested, "I'm not that sort of guy."

Oliver laughed, "of course you aren't. And if she knows you at all, she knows you aren't that sort of guy." Tommy was a lot of things, but it would never even occur to him to pressure a woman to sleep with him, or date him or anything like that. It wasn't even in his nature. "Is that really why you're just... what, dancing around things with her?"

Tommy closed his eyes and shook his head, "Not the only reason." He looked at Oliver, "Why do you have to know me so well?"

"I could ask you the same question," Oliver pointed out, even though it really wasn't all that true. His friend - short of actually taking off or putting on the outfit right in front of him, Oliver couldn't imagine Tommy ever realizing he was the Hood. Tommy didn't really know who he was, not anymore. In so many ways, no matter how he pretended, he was nothing like the friend Tommy had known.

Tommy chuckled, "There is that." He stepped away for a moment, then turned back and stepped closer, voice still low... "If I told anyone - it would be real. And I... I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Oliver out a hand on Tommy's shoulder, "I was like that with Laurel... a lot." Understatement of the decade, "I kept being afraid of every step getting more and more real. But... in the end, after everything... I can't imagine what my life would have been like if I didn't take the plunge. If I did something stupid out of fear - but I know it wouldn't be good." He shook his head. The thought of not having Laurel now, because he'd been an idiot - even more than he had been, cheating on her the times he had - with her _roommate_ once, even - was a though he didn't like to entertain, even in passing.

"You gotta take the leap, give it a go. If you like her - what was it you told me, when I told you I had a crush on Laurel?" Oliver furrowed his brow, trying to remember exactly what Tommy had told him.

"Unless she can read minds, you have to _say_ something, Oliver. Though, if she can read your mind and still wants to date you, you've really got a keeper." Tommy provided, and Oliver chuckled a little.

"Sometimes I think she can, or close enough, these days."

"You two were stuck together for five years with no one else, if you didn't come away finishing eachother's sentences, then TV and Movies have been lying to me my whole life," Tommy laughed, and then, "I was thinking, before we got off track - no matter how fast the contractors move, the Club's not gonna be open for at least another... four or five weeks? Maybe six? Too many inspections and everything else, even if it all got physically put together tommorrow."

Oliver nodded, "Yeah, that sounds about right." Where was Tommy going with this.

"I was thinking - we could hold a charity event, fundraise for the families of firefighters that die in the line of duty," Tommy explained quickly. "And since it's going to be a while until this place," he gestured to the club, "is ready for business..."

"You want to have the fundraiser here?" It was a good idea, and Oliver liked the idea of being able to do something constructive. He knew Laurel would embrace the idea too.

"It would reduce any overhead, maximize how much good we do with the money." He shrugged, "Plus it would be good publicity."

Oliver laughed, "What happened to the guy who rented a football stadium to play strip kickball with models on his birthday?"

Tommy smiled a wry self-deprecating smile "That guy needed a swift kick in the ass - and he got it when he got his two best friends back from the dead. But these families - they won't ever get the people they lose back. I want to make sure they can at least keep roofs over their heads, send their kids to college, even. They can't get what I got, getting you and Laurel back, but... maybe they can at least get something."

 _He's changed as much as I have, the last five years, hasn't he?_ In a lot of ways, yeah. And for the better, unambiguously.

"Let's do it," Oliver agreed.

 **Stagg Chemical, Starling City**

 **February 8, 2013**

Laurel had wanted to be the one to come to the fire and take this man on - Sara had reached out to her, after all - but Oliver had pointed out one very important thing:

She fought close-range, and Oliver didn't. Whoever was behind this, he'd somehow gotten turpentine on the firemen he'd attacked and killed, and that meant he was getting close to his targets - in a fire, even if he had some sort of short-ranged delivery system, it had to be very short, else it wouldn't have worked at all, wouldn't have reached the target.

"Your only choice for handling this guy is to get close. I don't have to do that," Oliver had pointed out, and reluctantly, Laurel had agreed.

Unfortunately, none of that changed how blisteringly hot the fire burning all around was - and he wasn't protected lik the firemen, meaning that even this fire, which wouldn't burn through the fireman's turnout gear, was going to kill him all too quickly if he got too close.

The fireman were getting ready to pull out - all the civilians were safe, thankfully, and the upper rungs of the factory, where he was currently perched, were the least hot of the place, though that didn't say much.

If he could just make sure that whoever was behind this didn't act before the firemen were out and the rest of the trucks arrived to put the fires out from the outside...

Then he saw it - a man wearing a full breathing apparatus that would hide his face, even though not one of the other firefighters had been wearing one. That had to be him.

But even as Oliver swung down, dropping onto a catwalk and then tried to get down onto the next one, he wasn't fast enough - the mystery man attacked one firefighter, getting him on the side of his head, knocking him off the catwalk, leaving him clinging to the railing, dangling over the worst of the fire below, his hands already starting to slip -

And he fell, screaming as he dropped into the flames, though the screams cut off quickly -

Oliver dropped onto the man, sending him sprawling back - the man, armed with an axe, tried to fight back, not trying to get anything on him, yet, thankfully, but Oliver had to keep his distance as he tried to fight back, getting several punches and kicks on a man nowhere near as skilled in fighting as he was - but the axe gave him an edge.

Oliver pulled back, pulling an arrow. "Stand down," He ordered, the voice scrambler distorting his voice even more amid all the roaring fire below and the heat around them. "You can't get away faster than I can shoot you."

The man said nothing, but merely reached into a pocket on his turnout gear, the hand that did so had a firefly tattoo on it, Oliver quickly took note - Oliver fired the arrow - right as the man dropped some sort of firebomb - small, but effective, as the sudden upsurge of heat forced him staggering back, his bow aiming just a touch upward as pulled back, the arrow sailing overhead and the man vanishing as the sudden burst of flame

 _Firefly tattoo on the back of his right hand._ The severe burn scars. And the 1970s Ford. That might just narrow it down.

He hoped.

Because otherwise the man had gotten away, and they had no hope to find him before another fire - and another fireman died.

 **Starling City Fire Department, Stationhouse 1**

 **February 10, 2013**

 _You were right - there is a killer_.

Sara was often happy to be proven right.

This was not one of those times.

 _The killer has a firefly tattoo on the back of his hand. As did all of the victims,_ the Black Canary had told her. _Every member of Engine Company 15 had them, but the company disbanded - someone is killing their former teammates._

Well, it was a lead. And it was even more proof. Three deaths now, all members of the same Engine Company - someone would have to believe her now. She just needed a bit more, and that's why she was here, digging more into something she wasn't supposed to be digging into.

She'd spent yesterday digging into every detail of the former company and it's members - and the tragedy that had separated them. Garfield Lynns had died there... and in the last few weeks, three more had died. In fires they shouldn't have died in. The last one had fallen from a catwalk for crying out loud - the Black Canary had told her what had happened, how he'd been pushed off by the killer, but the rest of the fire department should have noticed it was a red flag!

And yet... no such luck. They seemed utterly determined to ignore the fact that someone was stalking and killing them.

 _I'm not a fire investigator, but for god's sake, it's a pretty fucking obvious pattern._

"Oliver, what are you doing here?" Sara said as she saw him leaving the stationhouse.

"Helping Tommy with the firemen's gala," Oliver explained, and Sara nodded.

"Right. He's really throwing himself into that. And to get it going on such short notice - are you sure he's not working too hard?"

"Well, that's why I'm helping him. Laurel is too. She's been getting bored out of her mind with nothing to do. I think she leapt at the chance to help Tommy out with something that can help do some good." Oliver explained. "Anyway, I just came by to talk to the chief about the guest list, make sure it was all finalized."

Sara nodded, "Right. I've got... some questions for the chief. About the deaths."

"Doesn't the Fire Department handle this sort of thing itself?" Oliver furrowed his brow in possible confusion, clearly unsure, "as in, they have their own investigations unit?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded, confirming it for him. "But they're not doing their job, so that's what I have to do, clearly."

"Couldn't you get in trouble for that?"

"Probably, but I didn't become a police officer or a detective to let murderers get away because of jurisdictional bullshit," Sara responded. "Can you let Tommy know that I actually will be able to make it to the gala, by the way," she added, starting to walk up to the stationhouse once more. "Had to rearrange some things, but I'll be able to at least show my support - moral, anyway." She wouldn't be able to afford the cost of entry - it was a fundraiser for the wealthy of Starling City to give of their fat paychecks after all. And she was not really a woman with a lot of disposable income.

 _Of course, if I wanted to be rich, I_ _ **really**_ _wouldn't have gone into law enforcement - or any kind of public service._

"I'll let him know," Oliver nodded, and started walking away.

It didn't take long for Sara to find the man she was looking for. "Chief Raynes," Sara called out, moving quickly towards him. "Detective Lance, SCPD," she showed her badge quickly. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes."

"Sure," the Chief said, stepping off to the side about. "What's this about, Detective?"

"The recent deaths of three firemen. Three firemen that all belonged to your old unit," she said, showing him the picture of the Fireflies she'd dug up online. "All in the last few weeks. All in ways they shouldn't have. Leo Barnes, Danny de la Vega, and now Mark Vector. This isn't normal death in the course of fighting a fire, Chief Raynes, this is murder."

"Detective Lance, this isn't your jurisdiction, and with all due respect," the Chief said, "you're not an expert in fires or in fire investigation. People die fighting fires - it's the risk we all take every time we put on the uniform" He looked stressed, harried, and annoyed, which, given his job and the recent deaths, was understandable, but not an excuse for him not doing his job. "So if that's all-" he started to turn away, but Sara grabbed his arm and pulled him back to look at her, ignoring the expression on his face.

"You're right, I'm not a fire investigator, and I'm not an expert on how fires work. But what I am is a homicide detective, and I can read the reports your own investigators write!" Sara bit back the urge to scream it at him, and just settled for talking at a slightly higher volume. "With Leo Barnes and Danny de la Vega, they burned hotter than the fire they were in, and somehow, they had turpentine on them - in places where there was no turpentine. And now Mark Vector, who was spotted less than a minute before he died on the catwalk leaving the factory, somehow fell off something with a railing that was over waist-high and into the fire below. What, did he jump off?" Sara scoffed.

What she wished she could do was share the trump card - the eyewitness information she had, but she could hardly tell him that she knew a member of the Fireflies was killing all the other members because he'd been spotted by the Arrow with his tattoo.

"Mark was a friend and a colleague, and I'm not going to stand for you making light of his -" the Chief started, but Sara cut him off, determined to make him listen.

"That's not what I'm saying!" Sara cut in. "None of those men should have died. By your own department's reports, their deaths are aberrations. One aberration, one seeming accident that shouldn't have happened, it's a tragedy. Two, with both victims former members of the same group, you start to believe in unusual coincidences, if you're credulous. _Three_ , all members of teh same group, and you have to be blind to miss the obvious." Sara ticked them off on her fingers one by one. The chief started to protest again, but Sara kept going.

"I'm not an expert on fires - I didn't study accelerants and burn patterns and I don't know all the things about how fires work that you know. But I do know how to look for patterns that suggest something is going on. Maybe I'm wrong, but you won't even entertain the possibility!"

"Because there's no possibility to entertain, Detective!" Raynes replied. "No one is going to go around killing members of the Fireflies. Who would even _want_ to? And that could pull this off. You'd have to be a fellow firefighter to get into these fires and pull off a murder, and none of my people are killers."

 _Well, that explains the rejection of the idea of murder._ It actually made sense - the Black Canary had told her the killer was wearing full department gear, complete with a breathing mask - and to get onto these fires unnoticed, he would need to _look_ like he fit in. And now enough about fighting fires to get in and out alive and unharmed, or at least not so hurt he was incapacitated."

But that would mean

"Besides, the unit split up. We're all at different stationhouses - even some killer nut with a grievance against the fire department, he'd have to go all over the city to different fires being faced by different units!"

"Right. You all split up after Nodell Tower, two years ago." Sara started, and then she saw Raynes looking past her.

She had a theory - it was the only one that made any sense. Garfield Lynns had died during that fire, and now members of his former unit were being killed. By someone else in the unit. One of the survivors must have blamed the rest of the unit for Lynns's death.

 _But who._ Rayne's resistance to the very idea made her suspicious, but he seemed more a matter of pride than that he was hiding anything.

"Did you forget something Mr. Queen?"

"Yes, actually," Oliver said, holding up a piece of paper. "What was the Nodell Tower?" he asked, and for a moment, Sara was stunned that he couldn't know that, but then _duh_.

Rayne's expression matched her own moment of incredulity. "How do you not remember that?"

"I was Wi-Fi free for a few years," Oliver remarked, and despite the grave mood around them, Sara couldn't help but smirk a little at his turn of phrase.

Rayne nodded for a moment, then explained: "It was 22 stories of glass and steel. Except it turned out that the construction company who built it used substandard materials to save themselves a few bucks. It was nowhere near structural code."

"Gas line blew - there was a fire. Construction company was shut down and sent to jail, but the fire itself..." Sara shook her head. She'd seen the imagery on the news, and even at that remove, it had been a horrifying sight.

"Melted right through the stanchions, and before we even had a chance, the whole thing came down. 34 civilians and six of my fellow firemen died." Rayne said quietly. He looked back to Sara, "Now, do you need anything else, Detective Lance, or are you just here to remind me about all the friends I've lost?"

"Who ordered everyone out?" Sara asked.

"I did." Rayne said after a long moment. "That fire - it was like nothing else I'd ever faced before. Like the monster in a horror movie, just won't die. Garfield..." he closed his eyes, "Garfield wouldn't leave, insisted that he could save the building, stop the fire, get everyone out - I just had to send the men back in." He opened his eyes back up, "right up to the last minute, right before it all came down, he was screaming at me to send everyone back in. But I couldn't..." he shook his head now.

"God help me, I left him to burn."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara noticed a strange expression on Oliver's face.

Rayne cleared his throat. "So, are you done, _now_ , Dectective?"

Sara nodded and turned, her mind racing.

Chief Rayne couldn't possibly be the killer.

He was going to be the biggest _target_.

 _Shit._

 **The Foundary**

 **February 10, 2013**

"I did some digging," Diggle said, bringing some records up on the computer, "and it looks like every member of the fireflies that wasn't busy getting killed was somewhere else in the city. Most of them were on duty, documented dealing with other things. Only one that wasn't was at a fancy dinner with his fiance, and her facebook page seems to confirm that."

"You went digging through facebook to confirm the alibi?" Laurel laughed, "My sympathies." She'd never really been one for social media before the Queen's Gambit - she'd had to have some presence in that space, just for social survival at college, but the whole thing had always been a bit... skeevy to her. Or at least pointless.

Her opinion hadn't changed since she came back to Starling City.

"The things I do for the cause," Diggle joked, then he shook his head. "Takeaway is that we've got no suspect."

"That doesn't make any sense. It has to be one of them."

"Firefly tattoos aren't exactly uncommon or hard to get. Someone could be framing them?" Diggle pointed out to Oliver, but Oliver shook his head.

 _No, not framing._

"That doesn't make sense - I mean... I suppose it's possible, but it seems almost pointless. You didn't see him attack that last guy... it looked _personal_. And it would have to be another firefighter for it to-"

"You only checked the alibis for the ones that were 'alive'," Laurel interrupted. She turned to Oliver, "You said his hand was burned. Severely burned, the kind of thing that disfigures you?"

"Yeah," Oliver nodded. "But what do you mean by the ones that were alive? Why else would we-" Oliver cut off, realization dawning.

"Kinda hard to be a killer when you're dead, Laurel," Diggle pointed out.

"No but - what if Garfield Lynns wasn't dead? Not everyone who was in the fire at Nodell Towers died. I looked it up. There were people who were pulled out afterwards, taken to intensive emergency care. But the kinds of burns you were talking about Oliver - if they included his face, he might not even be recognizable. Our killer is burned, knows firefighter protocol and understands fire _very_ well, he has the firefly tattoo, and he has a grudge against the rest of the Fireflies. It all adds up - it has to be Garfield Lynns."

"Garfield Lynns is dead," Diggle pointed out, though even he sounded a little unconvinced.

"He was _declared_ dead. No body was ever recovered. He had an empty casket funeral. Just like Oliver did. Just like I did." _Just like we both assumed the other was dead, after the Amazo blew up._

"Some of the dead bodies were so burned they couldn't even be IDed off dental records. They just has to guess based on who was supposed to be in the building and who never came out. So if Lynns was just presumed dead..."

"It would have taken months for him to recover, and if he blamed Rayne and the rest of his team for abandoning him..." Diggle nodded, following along. "Okay, so say it's Lynns. How do we stop him? Just wait for the next fire? He can't have an address. Not one under his name, anyway."

"I don't know..." Laurel murmured. "Wait for the next fire, I guess. Try to find him, but..."

"I don't even know where to begin. Or what to ask Felicity Smoak to look for." Oliver shook his head. He looked to Diggle and Laurel, "Any ideas on where we'd start?"

"Nothing yet," Diggle shook his head, as did Laurel. "But at least we have until the next fire. Next there's a fire, a fire that has a member of the Fireflies there. I'll keep listening to the fire department's frequencies and let you know. I know all the truck companies that have Fireflies on them now."

"Good." Oliver nodded. He looked up to the room's ceiling, to his club above. "In the meantime... we need to finish getting the gala ready."

 **Verdant**

 **February 11th, 2013**

Somehow, the choice of music - World on Fire, by Royal Concept - didn't seem entirely appropriate to a gala raising money for the families of firefighters who died in the line of duty, but who was Sara to contest Tommy's ability to throw together a party at short notice. He'd done Oliver and Laurel's welcome home party in less than 24 hours, and he'd had nearly three days for this one, so it had to have been a piece of cake.

 _Okay, not, but still._

She looked through the people standing in small groups, drinking the complimentary champagne, trying to find her sister. She'd been a bit too busy with trying to get a lead on figuring out who was behind the firefighter murders to talk to Laurel - or even really think about - ARGUS coming after her for looking up information on Nyssa - well, asking Kelton to do it anyway.

And thankfully, she hadn't seen Agent Michaels or any of the other membersof her agency coming to order her to comply with their demands. The question as, were they just biding their time, or were they so determined to keep their cards close to their chest on everything they didn't want a record of them demanding someone in Sara's chain of command order her to spill.

 _I suppose they could be trying to tap my phones or spy on me..._ One could only hope that the Black Canary's phone would escape their notice - it wasn't exactly under her name, and it was untraceable with anything the police had. High-grade tech.

Of course, ARGUS was rumored to have all the best toys, so... who the hell knew?

 _Well, I'm not under arrest yet, nor are they threatening me with arrest if I don't spill the beans..._ She'd told the Black Canary what she'd learned from Chief Rayne, and the Black Canary, in turn, had shared her theory that Garfield Lynn wasn't actually dead.

 _Empty casket doesn't mean they're actually dead, Detective Lance. Given your family, I'd assume you'd know that full well._ The vigilante had told her.

Which really, wasn't surprising that this woman knew about Laurel. It was major news and no smart vigilante would go into business with a cop like the Black Canary had with her. Including reading up on the 'death' and 'resurrection' of her sister.

But that brought things back to the real problem right now. Her sister.

She couldn't keep putting it off - she needed to at least broach the subject with Laurel, let her know that she knew something was up with Nyssa. This wasn't the place for that conversation, but it was the place where she could be sure she could catch Laurel off-guard enough, coming at her like this, that she could gauge her sister's response to the initial questions well.

She hoped.

 _If Laurel really did hang out with an assassin on that island, then... god, maybe she's become some sort of expert at lying._ She and her sister were never supposed to have secrets from each other - not the big ones, anyway...

And yet.

After a long minutes searching, she found her sister standing by the half-completed bar, which had been put to use anyway. She and Oliver were there, with Tommy. Unsurprisingly, Joanna wasn't there, but once Joanna had gotten done with her grieving - or at least managed to move on as much as she could - Sara had a sneaking suspicion, from something Laurel had mentioned earlier, that Oliver was going to try to rope Tommy into taking Joanna on a double-date.

She watched Oliver leave to go talk to Chief Rayne, and Tommy head off to a small cluster of his rich peers, so Sara took the opening, heading over to her sister.

"Sara," Laurel said, smiling as she reached her. "Oliver said you told him you'd be able to make it, but I was worried when you weren't hear earlier." She looked at Sara's dress, "Nice dress."

Sara looked down at the black dress she was wearing - secondhand knockoff at a discount store, but she did look good in it. When she'd had to go to various police department functions, it was her choice most often.

"Yours is nicer." And indeed Laurel's dress, also black - unsurprising given the event - was a hell of a lot better looking on her sister than her own was on her.

Laurel shrugged, looking a little embarrassed, cheeks flushed a little, "Well, that's what Mrs. Queen's money will do for you. She took Thea and me shopping a whole lot the first couple months after I came back. And insisted on buying the best of everything for me."

"Hey, you're dating one of the richest guys in the city. And living in his place. You may not be after Oliver for his money, but you might as well enjoy some of the fringe benefits," Sara suggested, and Laurel rolled her eyes.

"Not sure all the fringe benefits are worth all the fringe costs of going to all the fancy dinners Oliver gets dragged to. And the paparazzi, and the..." shook her head, "Though there haven't been any of those dinners lately," she added.

"How is Mrs. Queen doing?" Sara asked. She'd spoken to Thea about her mother a few times, but Thea had been unusually not-forthcoming.

"Badly. She barely leaves her room, when she does she's almost always in her pajamas and barely paying much attention to what anyone does." Laurel shook her head and sighed, "I'm half convinced that the rest of the mansion could be redecorated from top to bottom in the most tacky, tasteless decor in hot pink and lime green, and she wouldn't even notice."

"Thea said she's acting exactly like she did after the Queen's Gambit went down," Laurel went on after a moment. "And apparently, it took Walter to get her out of that. I can only hope for Thea and Ollie's sake that she at least gets a little better soon."

"She just needs to remember she still has two people who need her." Sara said. "Easier said than done..." _Especially given that Mom ran off to Central City after the divorce, less than four months after Laurel was pronounced dead with the sinking of the Queen's Gambit..._

Sara swallowed - or tried to, anyway - the sudden surge of bitterness that swelled through her, as often came up when she thought of how her mother had run off after the divorce - about the divorce itself. True, her mother had always made time for her when she'd visited, she'd come up to visit her a few times, and whenever she'd needed to talk to her mother, she'd been able to call her when she needed to talk to her...

But...

Her mother hadn't actually been _there_ for her. And she couldn't even be bothered to come back to Starling City now that it turned out Laurel wasn't dead.

 _Right, not the time._

"But hopefully it won't take her too long to remember," she said finally. "Speaking of remembering," she started, unable to stop from grimacing at her own terrible segue - and Laurel's small laugh was further proof, "remember your friend Nyssa?"

"Of course I do," Laurel said. "Sara, I meant what I said. Besides, she travels a lot for work. She's probably not going to be in Starling City again for a long time."

"Laurel, that's not-" the sound of an explosion and screaming cut her off as she immediately, without even thinking, she pulled her gun from the holster on her thigh, turning to the source of the explostion, the head blasting towards her in one smooth motion that took bare seconds.

It was a fire, sure enough, and then more, springing up. A man in full firefighter gear had shown up, but she could see his face - covered in burns all over one side, and he had a gas mask attached to the front of his turnout coat. He had approached Oliver, talking to Chief Rayne, and everyone was running from the fires.

 _The killer._

 _Lynns._

Sara turned back to Laurel: "Get everyone out of here, I'll take care of him," out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Oliver - thank god - was getting out of the line of fire as well. She couldn't go charging at the guy, but as long as he didn't set Rayne on fire...

She could get into a position. _Would he surrender if I told him to stand down?_

Somehow, she didn't think he would, but as long as no one was actually being hurt, she had to try. And the fires seemed to have been deliberately set where people weren't.

 _Lynns only wants to kill one person tonight._

"Go!" She told her sister again, and once she was sure Laurel was on the move, Sara started moving towards the man.

 **Verdant**

 **February 11th, 2013**

 _Goddamnit Sara!_ Laurel hadn't actually run to get everyone out - they were handling that quite well on their own, and Tommy seemed to be keeping his head, keeping anyone from getting so panicked they ran in the wrong direction. Diggle too.

Or, as far as she could tell in the handful of seconds she allowed herself to look. As soon as she could, as soon as Sara turned away, Laurel was all but sprinting for the door to the basement, typing in the code, getting down there and throwing her outfit on, complete with the hood, in an almost haphazard and sloppy fashion. She had to move quick to make sure Sara couldn't get hurt-

Oliver had reached the basement moments after her, and together, the two of them, suited up and armed, bolted for the stairs and back up-

And then the sound of a gunshot rang out, and Laurel almost froze still, terrified that she'd been too slow, that Sara had had to firein self-defense, or worse, after she'd been hurt. But she couldn't freeze, not now, not after the last time she'd frozen had left Oliver in the hospital. And so she was moving, her almost hesitation taking up less than a second in actual time, despite how long it had felt in her racing mind.

Garfield Lynns was standing in front of Chief Rayne - who seemed to be covered in some sort of accelerant, turpentine probably - his right hand bleeding with a hole in it, an open lighter lying on the ground a few feet away, and he seemed to almost barely register the pain of a bullet through his hand. She tightened her grip on her tonfas as Oliver readied an arrow.

"Garfield Lynns, stand down!" Sara barked at him. "I'm not going to tell you twice! Cheif Rayne, I'd run now, while you can!" The chief took her advice, bolting away and for the exit before the

"I'm not afraid to die," the man said, voice grim, and Laurel could see the hollowness in his eyes, the emptiness in his voice. It was a note she found far too familiar. It wasn't identical to what she't felt in her last days in the League, but it echoed and resonated with her in a way no one else's profound sense of emptiness had.

"No," Laurel said, stepping forward before she even realized what she was doing. At least she'd had the presence of mind to turn the voice modulator on. "You're afraid to live. You feel like you have nothing, are nothing. But you're not - this doesn't have to be the end, Mr. Lynns," Laurel said. "It isn't the end. Not if you don't want it to be." She stepped closer to him, slowly, not to spook him, not getting between him and Sara either. Lynns looked down at the ground as she spoke

"Let me get you some help." She said.

"I appreciate the offer," the man said after a long moment, looking back up at her. "But I'm already burned." He turned, moving towards a fire

"Lynns, no!" She yelled, lunging for him - but it was too late. He stepped into the flames, letting them cover his jacket, and she realized that it too must have already been covered in accelerant.

 _This was his plan all along. Die after burning Raynes._

Diving back from the spreading fire, Laurel saw Sara staring at her. "Detective," She said after a moment, nodding at her. The hood and her mask still covered her face, there was no way Sara recognized her, but it was best she didn't tempt fate.

"Black Canary," she said after a moment's hesitation.

 _There's no way Sara recognized me._ She told herself again, knowing it was true.

"You should probably get out of here, Detective," Oliver said,his own modulator on, bow lowered, not looking at her directly.

"Right," Sara said after a moment, glancing at Oliver - The Hood, as she saw him - and she left, moving quickly for the exit, glancing back at the two of them several times, even as she kept getting out.

 _She didn't recognize me. She didn't recognize Oliver._

If that was true - and it had to be true - then why had she looked so stunned as she'd started at both of them?


	16. I've Got To Be Crazy

**Disclaimer:** I don't own it, duh.

For those of you who didn't go trawling through the Arrowverse wiki for fancy restaurants in Starling City, Table Salt is the name of the restaurant that Oliver, Helena, Tommy and Laurel have their little double-date at in Vendetta

There's really not much going on in Trust but Verify that goes differently than canon in this fic - nothing that merited any sort of re-writing, so I skipped over it, briefly touching on what happened here in this first scene.

"Crime, Crisis and Disaster Victims Assistance" is an actual charity, part of the National Organization for Victim Assistance. I do not profess to know much about how it, or any other charity actually works, beyond what I see on TV shows and read in the news and the like, and it's not a subject I've ever studied that extensively.

I am aware that in the show, Thea crashes her car with Vertigo right after/right during Gaynor being dealt with, but for the purposes of this story, it doesn't happen until about a week later. Authorial fiat moving some timelines around.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 16: I've Got To Be Crazy

 _If there's one thing that my research has more or less proven time and again, it is that the one near-universal quality of being unknowingly friends with someone who is a superhero or vigilante is a constant questioning of your own mind, a questioning of your own sense of reality, of if what you're seeing is actually what is happening, if the weird things your friend is doing are all in your head, if they really just lied to you so brazenly right now._

 _In some ways, it is one of the cruelest things any superhero or vigilante can do._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Table Salt, Starling City**

 **February 20th, 2013**

Even knowing how her boyfriend's name opened just about every door in Starling City sooner or later, Laurel was still amazed that he'd been able to get them a table here tonight on relatively short notice - ever since it opened in late november, Table Salt had been one of the hottest new restaurants in the city, and despite that popularity, was able to manage a good romantic atmosphere at the tables, when you wanted to make one - the dimly lit dining room complementing the candles on the table, their arrangement as a number of smaller ones in an artfully decorated clay box, as opposed to a few long ones in a fancy candelabra was an interesting touch.

It had a quiet atmosphere as well, with all the tables engaged in relatively quiet conversations among themselves, and Laurel guessed that whoever had arranged the tables in the dining room had done so to ensure minimal overhearing, as long as people didn't raise their voices.

"I'm sorry we really haven't had a chance for a dinner like this since..." he frowned, "have I really not taken you out to dinner since we got back?"

"You've taken me out to eat, but nothing like this, no," Laurel agreed, shrugging a bit.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said, frowning, his expression almost a little embarrassed, "You deserve-"

"I don't need a fancy dinner date at a romantic restaurant to be reminded you love me, Oliver," Laurel smiled, chuckling slightly, "Not that It isn't nice to get away from everything else and have one, but it's not like we haven't both been busy since we got back. You even more than me, since you actually have a job, getting Verdant ready, and everything."

And the last week had been particularly hectic, with Oliver and Diggle nearly coming to blows over Diggle's old Army buddy Ted Gaynor - it had been all Laurel could do to convince Oliver to agree with what had been Diggle's plan the whole time, when he first went in there - to try to prove that Gaynor wasn't the one.

Instead, as Oliver had known - as _she_ had known - Gaynor had been as dirty as the List had claimed. Even if it hadn't been written by Robert Queen, there was no doubt that everyone on the list had done wrong - it had been right thus far, and given that the Dark Archer was the pawn of the man who'd written it...

In the end, it had all worked out - Diggle's sister in law had been kidnapped briefly so that the armored truck-jackers could force him to help them on their last heist, but it hadn't stopped Diggle from failing the robbery on purpose, or Oliver from coming exactly as Diggle had known he would.

 _I told him he shouldn't have tried to drop that bug on him 'secretly'_. Of course, she'd only found out after the fact, because Oliver had come up with the idea at the last minute rather than plan it out.

But it all worked out in the end, and here they were, at a date, a nice, romantic date at a fancy - and hellishly expensive - restaurant. She was less thrilled about the price, but on the other hand...

It would be excellent food, and Table Salt's prices also meant privacy - paparazzi didn't cluster around this place. There was no concerns she had about any pictures of tonight ending up on a tabloid or the local gossip shows, with people speculating that Oliver Queen might be proposing to his girlfriend sometime soon.

 _Fun stuff._

Not.

"Well, Tommy's taking up a lot of slack with the contractors. He has been doing a good job at yelling them into picking up the pace." Oliver conceded. "And it's not like Verdant is really what's taking up my time. Or yours."

"No, but it does take up some of it. And it's important." Laurel countered. "But we did agree we weren't going to talk about that - or anything related to it. So let's change topics." Granted, it was a huge part of their lives, and Laurel wasn't interested in some sort of 'let's pretend we're normal' thing, like sometimes happened on TV shows in these situations.

Whatever else happened, even if Laurel hung up her tonfas tomorrow and Oliver did the same for his bow, they would never be 'normal' again, and it wasn't even something she really wanted, anyway.

If she'd prized 'normal' in particular, she'd never have started dating Oliver Queen in the first place - not with his wealth, and status and all the paparazzi that followed him.

"Good point," Oliver agreed, then raised an eyebrow just a little. "Kind of like you have a topic in mind," he added.

"I do," Laurel bit her lip a moment. "So, I know I've been kind of just... sitting around the house since we got back, a lot of the time. Going shopping with your mom and Thea, and in general spending time with Thea has been fun, but I am getting a bit stir crazy."

"I hadn't noticed," Oliver said, deadpan, and Laurel rolled her eyes.

"Anyway - you know the issue. I've wanted to be a lawyer since forever, but between waiting to sit for the LSAT and the fact that I'd be stuck in law school for three years, rather than actually _doing_ anything..." she shook her head as she rehashed the same point. "I'm just closing the door on it."

"Laurel - that's been your dream. Forever." Oliver said, concerned, leaning in, reaching across the table to take her hand. "Are you sure you want to just-"

"I'm sure," Laurel said, turning her hand so it lay palm up so she could hold Oliver's hand as well. "I'm not saying it's easy, just... abandoning it. I had plans, you know. I still remember dreaming about how I was going to be Attorney General someday, or at least Solicitor General." She smiled, remembering her youthful dreams. "I was going to argue before the Supreme Court, win a 9-0 decision, get Clarence Thomas to actually speak..." she laughed, knowing Oliver wouldn't really get that joke, but finding it personally amusing all the same.

Then she let out a sigh and shook her head, "I'm going to miss those plans, I'm going to miss not being able to do all that," she admitted, "But... I wanted to become a lawyer to _help_ people. And after everything that happened in the last five and a half years..." _after the Queen's Gambit sank and I thought you died, found you again and then thought you were dead - again_ "I don't want to _wait_. Anything could happen at anytime, and I'm not going to just... wait three years to help people constructively, as myself."

"I'm going to apply to - or even volunteer, if that's the only option I have - with the National Organization for Victim Assistance. Hopefully their Crime, Crisis and Disaster Victims Assistance program. Charities almost always need more manpower for everything. And it's certainly a charity with a lot of business in the city." She didn't doubt Oliver would be supportive - these days, he seemed nearly incapable of anything else, just as she was for him - but she had wondered about what his exact reaction would be to her idea.

It hadn't been that hard for here to come to the conclusion that this was what she wanted to do, once she finally decided to give up her dream of being a lawyer to deal with the reality of her changed life and situation. She'd helped Tommy plan the Fireman's Gala at Verdant, and found it surprisingly enjoyable - it was a mentally stimulating challenge to get the best bang for the buck to keep overhead low, to dicker with vendors to get wine and ingredients for _Hors d'oeuvres_ as cheaply as possible while still being of high enough quality for the kind of high society people that would be coming to donate...

And knowing that it would be helping the families of fallen firefighters made the challenge fulfilling, the organizing of it purposeful rather than just 'throwing a party together for the hell of it'.

She'd settled on NOVA because it paired the best with her work in the Glades - a lot of the people the CCDVA would be helping would be from the Glades, or work there, or be near the Glades in some fashion, unfortunately. So it would give her a better idea of where in that section of the city to focus her efforts, what gangs or streets or blocks needed the most attention or were causing the most trouble for the city's most vulnerable.

She was also looking into other charities in the city, including just interning at CNRI - it was a purely local agency, which meant it had fewer resources, but entirely focused on Starling City. And she'd make contact with plenty of people who she could also help as the Black Canary that way as well.

She'd rejected the prospect of CNRI, though, except as a distant fallback. It was primarily a legal aid office, and so mostly lawyers and paralegals - and the prospect of being so close to her long standing dream and yet so far...

It sounded like torture.

"Dinah Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world," Oliver said, smiling, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently again. "It sounds like a perfect fit for you. How much you care. It's always been one of the things I loved about you most, Laurel," he added, and Laurel couldn't deny soft warm feeling that gave her for a moment, the loving smile and expression on his face as he spoke those words.

 **NOVA Offices, Starling City**

 **February 21st, 2013**

"Your resume looks good, and I've gone over everything else as well," the local head of NOVA's offices in Starling City, David Richter said, sitting down on the other side of the desk. "The professors you listed as your references gave glowing recommendations about your work ethic, your intelligence and your passion." He looked over at her, "Normally, I'd look in askance at someone five years out of college still listing their professors as a reference, but - well, you never had the chance to find anyone to work for that could give references in the intervening five years."

"No, not really," Laurel nodded in agreement, hands crossed in her lap. He looked impressed, and she suspected she had a good shot, as long as she didn't say the wrong thing in the interview. She'd found out that they had an opening in fundraising, and so she'd applied for that first. Her job wouldn't be handling the money once they got it, but helping the charity get it.

Laurel was fairly certain she could put the passion and rhetorical skill she'd honed for work in the courtroom to get donations. Hopefully, anyway.

"The big question I have for you - I have some others, but the most important one is this: Why? Everything you did at college points towards you wanting to be a lawyer, as did all your listed professors when I reached out to them - they were quite surprised you were applying for a position here."

"You said it yourself - I was... gone, for five years," Laurel said. "If there's one thing that being shipwrecked on an island for five years will teach you, it's how short life can be, how quickly things can change. It's true - I wanted to be a lawyer for years. When I got on the _Queen's Gambit_ , I had everything all planned out - I'd take the LSATs, go to Law School, get a job in the DAs office - become District Attorney, maybe go further."

"Let me guess - at least state Attorney General, and arguing a case before the Supreme Court?" Richter interjected with a slight smile, "Every lawyer I know has at least at one point dreamed of winning a Supreme Court case.

"That was definitely one part of the plan, yeah," Laurel confirmed. "But I'll admit I also thought of going even higher - Attorney General of the United States, or at least Solicitor-General." She let out a sigh, "But like I said - those five years in the North China Sea put some things into perspective. I wanted to become a lawyer, for a lot of reasons, but ultimately, I wanted to be able to _help people_. And now that I'm back home - knowing how quickly life can change on you..." she shook her head, "I don't want to wait the three years I'd have to spend in Law School to start helping people." She shrugged, "I want to start now."

Richter nodded a bit gravely, "I can respect that. You certainly won't run out of people who need help, especially in this city."

"That's one of the reasons I picked NOVA as where I wanted to apply to first," Laurel nodded.

"And that speaks well of your intention - I'll be honest, though. You'll find this work as frustrating and depressing as you do fulfilling. We do good work here, or I wouldn't stay here, but there's always going to be people we can't help, people who just won't give money no matter how good the cause, no matter how much they have to spare. It'll be draining at times, and I'd be lying if there isn't burnout."

Laurel laughed a little, "It almost sounds like you're trying to make sure I don't want the job."

"I want to make sure you know what you're getting into," Richter replied. "Charity work is long hours for not very good pay, and it's hard, mentally and emotionally. You are going to wonder some days if any of it even matters."

"How do you handle them, then?" Laurel asked. Not that she wondered how she'd handle them - she would be making a difference as the Black Canary one way or the other, so she'd have that outlet for any frustrations this work caused. But she wanted - _needed_ \- to have the ability to help people as herself, in a way that was constructive. No matter how much of an inspiring symbol she was trying to be as the Black Canary, she was being _destructive_ , tearing down criminals and those who preyed on the people of the Glades and Starling City more generally.

Working in NOVA, or some other charity, she could be _constructive_ , she could help build a better city that someday, might not need the Black Canary, at least, not most of the time. That wouldn't need the Hood, either.

 _I don't want or expect a normal life, and I don't plan on hanging up my tonfas anytime soon, but... it would be nice to not have to go out onto the streets and fight every night, someday._

"I remember the days when we do help, the days when it does feel like we're making a difference, the specific people I know we've helped... doesn't always make every day manageable, but it helps," David explained. "It takes some time to really get used to it, to really put the good days and the bad days into perspective, but it does make the bad days better, once you can do that."

He looked down at her resume again for a moment, and then, "I assume you picked NOVA, and mentioned you were specifically wanting to work in relation to the CCDVA for more or less the same reason you were gravitating towards the idea of going into the DA's office then - helping victims of violent crime?"

"I did. And like you said - there's no danger of running out of people to help in this city," she said, a bit sadly. Starling City didn't used to be this bad - the Glades were always poor, true, and thus they had crime, but ten years ago, things weren't this bad. Or maybe that was just a certain amount of nostalgia talking, or just a comment on her own perceptions at the time.

It was hard to say.

"Alright then," Richter nodded, and looked at a few papers on his desk - which was organized, but also covered in papers, his in and out boxes stuffed. It wasn't a chaotic mess, but the hectic nature of his desk and office was indicative of everything the man had already said. "Then I suppose we should get on with the rest of the interview - pretty standard, almost boilerplate questions. Shall we get started?"

Laurel nodded. "Of course," she said with a smile. She resisted the urge to cross her fingers, but she had a good feeling about things so far.

Hopefully.

 **Sara Lance's Apartment, Starling City**

 **February 23rd, 2013**

"There... there has to be some other answer." Sara said to her empty apartment as she looked at the inside of her closet door, the news clippings and police report excerpts and witness sketches of the Black Canary, and the hood. Arranged in a rough timeline order...

And right alongside it, everything she knew for certain about exactly what her sister and Oliver had been doing since they got back from the Island. Which, the more she'd worked to assemble those details, the more she realized she had no idea what either of them were doing, when they weren't in the public limelight somehow. It was -

It was _weird._ And...

And it was disturbing.

The timing was the obvious first clue, and yet, that was circumstantial at best, wasn't it? But soon after Laurel and Oliver returned, the Hood and the Banshee - who had told everyone she rescued, and every thug or would be mugger or worse that she'd put into the hospital that she was the 'Black Canary' - had appeared. The Hood targeting white collar criminals, mostly, though he'd branched out a few times since - going after that team of bank robbers, the copycat archer who'd called him out, and most recently, Garfield Lynns. There was also a sighting of him attacking a private security company, and a police report seconded to the task force where several people from that company, arrested for attempting to rob an armored truck, tried to claim the Hood had done it. That the hood had been present was proven from the arrows

What had been interesting, when she dug deeper, is that one of the men involved in that whole affair, had been Ted Gaynor, who had served in Afghanistan alongside John Diggle, Oliver's bodyguard assigned him

 _If I wasn't already caught up in this insane theory, that would just be an odd coincidence at best if I noticed it at all..._

But she _was_ caught up in an insane theory, that both absolutely _had_ to be nonsense, and yet...

When Oliver's farce of a trial had been a failure, any inkling or suggestion that her sister and said sister's boyfriend were vigilantes had been dismissed entirely from her mind. Not that it had been anything other than 'hey, wouldn't it be funny if?'

But when she thought about it... Laurel hadn't actually been at the Queen Mansion when Oliver had been attacked. Her reason why had made sense at the time, but when you put it all together...

Laurel's 'friend' Nyssa, from college - who she'd never _once_ heard Laurel mention, was an Assassin, wanted by the US government. And sure, Laurel had hardly told her everything about her social life at college, but still. The first thing that had left her wondering.

Oliver had said, on the polygraph, that he'd been tortured on the Island. That he and Laurel hadn't been alone there. And she'd seen some of Laurel's scars. She'd read the medical report on her sister. On the injuries she'd had in the past.

And her sister had known how to fight. _A lot_. Better than any self-defense training their dad had insisted they'd get, when they were teenagers. Better than her, as much as Laurel had tried to downplay it. The way she'd taken on China White, one of the deadliest killers in the Triad by all accounts...

Sara would have been very dead had she been alone that night, she'd realized after the fact.

And a thousand other little clues, that only made sense together when she looked at them on this murderboard on the inside of her closet door.

"God, all I need is some fucking yarn connecting everything and I'll like one of those conspiracy theory madmen in the movies." Sara dropped her head into her hands and let out a long breath. "I've got to be crazy to even _think_ this!" Her sister wasn't running around beating people up and using some weird screeching thing. Oliver wasn't a murderer! He wasn't running around like Robin Hood: Men in Tights and shooting people.

 _My sister isn't the vigilante dropping by my place and me noticing that she looks kinda hot!_ That had been a cringe-inducing thought when this whole idea had finally grabbed ahold of her.

The final thing that had made everything click in this insane theory had been so stupid, so mundane, she couldn't believe that _that_ had somehow been the thing that was doing it.

 _The Hood and the Black Canary showed up at Verdant too fast. Moments after Lynns arrived, they were there. Moments after I lost sight of Laurel, who was supposed to be leaving, they were there._

Laurel not being in sight meant nothing - though it was compounded by the fact that she hadn't seen Laurel outside Verdant amongst the recently escaped gala-goers, which had been terrifying, or would have been, if she wasn't already holding onto this theory.

The only way the two vigilantes could have gotten to Verdant so soon after Lynns arriving was if they'd been right behind him, chasing him there, they'd somehow _very conveniently_ nearby... or they'd been at the party.

 _Laurel was tortured on the island, she's 'friends' with an internationally wanted assassin that she tried to warn me off from in an awkward way and..._

Everything else, Sara could explain, or at least, imagine an explanation for - the timing, Laurel's scars, the Black Canary never being reported to use a voice modulator except when speaking to her, as far as she could tell... Sara could think of explanations. _I'm a cop. I'm more likely to notice things about her voice - and when it comes to the criminals she beats and the people she rescues... neither of them have much incentive to help the police catch the Black Canary_. She could even imagine explanations for the Hood and the Black Canary being there so soon - they were chasing Lynns, right behind him, or nearly so...

Maybe they'd just figured out who exactly he was targeting and rushed there?

But the one thing she couldn't come up with a good explanation for was 'Nyssa Raatko'. A wanted assassin - a gorgeous wanted assassin, like something out of a spy novel or a comic book - that was just... casually friends with her sister.

There was no explanation for that - not with how well she explained everything else.

But even with every detective's instinct in her screaming that the evidence - circumstantial at best though it might be - pointed towards Laurel and Oliver being the Black Canary and the Hood, there was no...

She couldn't reconcile the sister she knew, the Oliver Queen she knew, with the Black Canary, or the Hood. Oliver wasn't a killer, and her sister wouldn't just let him kill anyway. And with how often their father had drilled into them that justice gotten outside the law wasn't justice... and how much Laurel had internalized that even more than she had before she became a cop...

 _Five years can change someone, but not this much!_

"I have _got_ to be crazy!" Sara muttered again. She looked over her 'evidence' again, as if something would suddenly jump out to prove her wrong, but her phone rang - she was almost startled at the sudden sound, so caught up in her thoughts, but she quickly regathered her composure as she grabbed it and looked at the caller ID - her sister.

"Hey Laurel," she said, casually, as if she wasn't suspecting her sister of dozens of counts of assault. "Sorry again about having to cancel lunch the other day." She hadn't actually spoken much to her sister since Verdant, using the genuine excuse of being overworked, which was true. She had a lot she was doing.

But she was also avoiding Laurel. Because of -

Well, everything.

"It's alright. It's not like we didn't both have to deal with Dad having to cancel things from time to time thanks to work. It happens," her tone was the verbal equivalent of a shrug, "Though," Laurel added, "I hope you can come to Dinner tomorrow. Dad will be there too." Laurel said, a hint of excitement underlying her words.

"Lance family dinner?" they hadn't had a chance for all three of them to meet together since just after Christmas.

"More like a 'I just got hired for a job and I'd like to celebrate dinner'," Laurel said quickly, tone excited.

"Wait, you got hired? I didn't even know you were applying to anything! Congratulations!" Sara said, pleased for her sister. "Wait - does this mean?"

"I'm giving up on law school?" Laurel asked, tone dropping a bit, "Yeah. It does. But - I'm actually looking forward to this. I applied to the National Organization for Victim Assistance, and they hired me."

"Fundraising?" Sara asked,

"How did you know?"

"Because if anyone can convince Starling City's richest to part with their money to help the little people, it's you." Sara said with a chuckle. She was about to say something more when there was sound on the other end, someone talking to Laurel - it sounded like Oliver. She heard the words 'Thea' and 'Hospital'

"Laurel?" She asked, "What's wrong?"

There was a moment's pause, "Thea- Thea was in a car crash. She's at the hospital. I'm sorry I need to-"

"Absolutely. Go. Wait - what hospital?" When Laurel told her which one, she nodded, even if Laurel couldn't see, "I"m on my way. I'll meet you there."


	17. Twice the Vigilante

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still not mine

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 17: Twice the Vigilante, Twice the Vigilantism

 _Vertigo._

 _Somehow, the drug that just won't stay dead. It's been modified, redeveloped, made anew, the recipe seemingly lost with the death or imprisonment or drug-induced madness of it's latest distributor, and almost every time, it always brings the attention of masked vigilantes, for every Vertigo dealer proves to be an extremely dangerous person, above what the normal caliber of police offer can usually go after._

 _Vertigo always comes back, but it started in 2012 with a man named Cecil Adams and a designer drug. 56 people died to 'perfect' the high it offered. But then..._

 _Then he got it. And then he made a mistake - he let his drug risk ruining the life of the little sister of the Hood._

 _If only that had been the end of him._

 _The end of Vertigo_

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Queen Mansion**

 **February 28th, 2013**

Oliver wished he could be out there, finding _something_ on this 'Count' that was apparently behind Vertigo, but he knew he had to be here. It was a balancing act, one he didn't always pull off, trying to maintain his links with his family, and do what he had to do for the city.

If he hadn't had Laurel, if she had actually died when the Amazo blew up, if he was doing this alone, or even just with Diggle... he wasn't sure he'd be able to pull it off even a little. But that was a hypothetical he didn't have to consider.

Laurel hadn't died, he didn't have that still looming over his conscience anymore, and he had her, with him, every step of the way. One person in his life who knew everything, everything that had happened to him - and he knew everything that had happened to her.

 _I can't imagine what would happen if I had to keep everything hidden... from everyone._ It was a disturbing thought, but one that Oliver knew would have been a trap he'd have fallen in too easily. Even as it was, Laurel sometimes had to all but bully him into opening up.

But he could do this much.

He found Thea in her bedroom, standing in front of a mirror, leaning forward a bit to apply concealer to the injury from her car crash.

"We should get going," he said, standing in her doorway, "For some reason, Judges don't really appreciate the value of being fashionably late." Thea had had some run-ins with the law, but this was the first time she'd be appearing in court.

At least - for something _she'd_ done.

Thea didn't turn, but she did offer a small smile as she finished touching up the bruise and cut as best she could. "Got any other tips?"

"Let the lawyer do the talking, and don't doodle or play tic-tac-toe on the pad of paper they give you," Oliver suggested, smiling a little, and thankfully, it managed to get Thea to smile back a bit as well."Judges don't tend to like that either."

"Got a wealth of experience on what judges don't like, do you?" Thea teased him, and Oliver felt a small smile creeping onto his face a bit unwillingly.

"I learned it all the hard way, may as well pass my wisdom onto you," Oliver told her. She turned around and looked up at him, biting her lip a little.

"Were you ever worried?" She asked, softly.

"I wasn't inclined to worry about much about anything back then," Oliver admitted. "But you shouldn't get too worried - you didn't hurt anybody, and you were seventeen... the lawyers will cut you a deal." It wouldn't be the same as paying off a store owner to make sure they didn't press charges, but no matter what, their mother would make sure Thea didn't have any jail time.

 _Something she doesn't deserve, for one stupid mistake._ Not if his previous mistakes didn't merit jail time.

Laurel and Sara would be the first to point out the imbalances of the system for Thea and him, the family's expensive lawyers able to cut these sorts of deals, get off without jail time. Five years ago, it wouldn't even have occurred to him to care about that.

Now he did - but there still wasn't much he could do about it. He didn't want to see Thea go to prison.

 _Sara would also be the first to acknowledge how much her dad covered up her... antics._ So he knew neither of them would disapprove - just that they'd point out how this wasn't fair.

Which, Oliver knew, it wasn't.

"Come on, Speedy," he said, stepping away a bit, towards the door. "Let's go."

 **Quentin Lance's Apartment, Starling City**

 **February 28th, 2013**

"Absolutely not," Quentin said as he stepped away from the stove to grab something from the cupboard. When Laurel had suggested they try to talk their dad into seeing if he could talk to Judge Brackett, get him to back off his absolutely insane idea of 'throw Thea Queen in jail to prove some arbitrary point' - read, election time is coming up and he wants to look good - Sara had been the one to suggest they do it at his place, let him cook dinner.

Which had the advantage of enjoying one of her dad's dinners, because he was a good cook, and getting him at a time when he might be more inclined to listen. Dad enjoyed cooking for other people - for them - and he rarely did it anymore.

"Dad - I know how you feel about the city's elite pulling strings to get off jail time, or get sweetheart deals," Sara said. "I know, because I hate it just as much as you do."

"Then why are you two asking me to pull strings to get Thea off? It's not like her mother can't do it - she's covered her up enough times so far." He said, grabbing some spice or another from the cupboard and sprinkling some into the frying pan, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon as he spoke. "Judge Brackett wasn't wrong when he pointed out that she'd have priors if they hadn't been swept under the rug."

"She's eighteen, and she made the mistake of taking a drug and driving - she didn't hit anyone or, hurt anyone but herself!" Laurel said, "apart from the tree she hit, it's an entirely victimless crime."

"And what about the next time?" He countered, "Miss Queen's worked herself up from fake IDs and underage drinking to shoplifting and now driving under the influence of narcotics. If she does it again and hits someone because I helped get her a deal, that's on me."

 _Okay, that's a good point,_ Sara had to admit, but she knew better to say that outloud. Besides, he believed Oliver when he said that he thought this was as much Thea acting out to spite her mother. Apparently she had gotten it into her head that Mrs. Queen and Mr. Merlyn were having an affair.

Which was just weird and wrong on all sorts of levels. Based on everything Tommy said about his dad, everything she'd seen from the cold fish of a bastard, it would be impossible to imagine him mustering enough passion or emotion or _anything_ for Mrs. Queen to be able to have an affair with him.

But Oliver suspected she'd taken the Vertigo as an attempt to 'fuck you'

"Look, I sympathize, I do. But she broke the law, and if her mom couldn't afford expensive lawyers that charge more by the hour than I spend on food in a month, she'd already be in prison. We already have two justice systems a lot of the time, for rich people like her, I don't want to make it worse."

"This is not the same thing as some rich college kid getting a sweetheart prison deal after date raping his girlfriend because he's on the swim team and a real conviction would 'unfairly ruin his life'." Laurel countered. "This isn't some grown adult wife beater getting off because of a slick lawyer and a sleazy judge - she's an eighteen year old girl who was seventeen when she did it, and what she did is somet

"And, not to mention, this is _only_ happening because Judge Brackett wants to look good for the cameras. He can claim a principled stance all he wants, but he's cut these deals before!" Laurel finished, and Sara could guess that what her sister wasn't mentioning - though Sara didn't know for sure - was that Oliver had been one of the people who had been the benificiary of one or more of those deals."

"You don't like the war on drugs anymore than I do," Sara pointed out, trying a different tack.

Their father nodded, opening the oven to check what was cooking inside, then closing the door and lowering the heat a little. "It's a waste of the Department's time, mostly, but Vertigo is different from your run of the mill drugs, and this 'Count' perp that's running the show has left nearly a hundred bodies behind him."

"And? Thea isn't a dealer! She's just someone who used it. Does it really help anyone to lock her up?" Sara countered. "Locking people up just for using an illegal drug helps approximately no one!"

"If she was just using it and got caught, I'd see your point, but she did drive under the influence," their father pointed out. "You're not wrong that this is just Brackett posturing, but that doesn't change the reality of what she did."

"But should it condemn her to life as a felon? If she serves a full sentence - at her age? Think about what that could do to her, and her chances for having any sort of life afterwards." Sara protested.

"Thea isn't a bad kid, or anything like that," Sara said. "She doesn't deserve to have her life ruined by this - you asked what if she did this again... she doesn't want to do this again. She doesn't _want_ to. She's not going to. Not if she gets help. She's just..." Sara realized what she needed to say, and she nearly slapped herself for not realizing it right at the start.

"She's acting out," Sara said. "She shoplifted, did drugs, drove under the influence... that sounds familiar, doesn't it?" All things she'd done. Sure, the drugs and driving she'd done had been pot, and she hadn't crashed her car, but she had shoplifted, and plenty. By the time she'd finally gotten caught she'd assembled entire outfits from stolen clothes, or nearly so.

"Sara," her father said warningly, clearly not wanting her to follow down this line of reasoning, but she kept going.

"I did a _lot_ of stupid shit as a teenager. You were there to bail me out, every time, and there to make sure none of it showed up on any record. I could have escalated to worse, god knows. But I didn't, because you made sure I had a chance - and because you covered up what I did, I had a chance to become a cop, become a detective." She laughed a little, "and I like to think I've turned out pretty well for it."

"You have," Laurel confirmed, and her Dad nodded in agreement.

"You're an excellent cop, Sara, and it's been good for you in other ways, working on the force," he said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder for a moment. He let out a sigh, but Sara could tell his resolve was weakening.

"I agree, it's not fair that the elite in this city get these deals - but it wasn't fair that you covered up what I did, and lots of other people my age who did the same thing didn't get that chance. We can't help everyone, but we can help Thea, here. Judge Brackett owes you a whole raft of favors."

"Not as many as he used to," her dad said, but he drew in a long breath, then nodded. "Fine. I'll talk to him." Sara started to open her mouth to thank him, as did Laurel, but he held up his hand. "Just talk. No promises. I can't promise you she's going to get totally scott-free, like she would have

"She shouldn't, not really. If she gets community service and probation... she'd deserve it, and it might be good for her. She did screw up, she did break the law," Laurel pointed out. She chuckled, "It might have helped Ollie if he'd been forced into community service at some point."

"Not sure anything could have helped your boyfriend the way he was five years ago," her dad said, as the oven beeped and he pulled the dish out after putting on oven mitts. "But I'll admit he's doing a lot better for himself now than I would have ever expected." He gave Laurel a pointed look, "He's still not good enough for you, but I don't think I'd say anyone else is either,"

"You wouldn't," Sara agreed with a chuckle. She leaned over towards her sister and spoke in a conspiratorial stage whisper. "He never really approved of my college girlfriend either." Not because she'd been a girlfriend, Sara had always understood that. Just because... well -

"Nobody's good enough for my little girls," their father agreed. He poured the contents of the frying pan over what he'd just pulled from the oven.

"If you two would set the table, dinner is ready." he Pulled the oven mits off and raised one hand, pointing at them sternly, "No more shop talk for the rest of dinner. Got it?"

"Got it, Dad," Laurel and Sara confirmed in near-unison.

 **Verdant, Starling City**

 **March 1st, 2013**

"Did you know that McKenna Hall is a cop now?" Oliver asked Tommy as he approached his friend. Tommy looked up from the construction notes he was going over.

"Pull the other one, Oliver," Tommy said, chuckling.

"No, really. She's a cop, works in Vice and everything," Oliver said. It was still kind of hard to wrap his brain around, but then again, he'd had trouble wrapping his brain around the idea of Sara as a cop for a bit - though now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She really was good at it, and from what little he'd seen of Hall at the precinct, so was Hall. Dedicated to being good at it, at least.

"McKenna Hall, party girl extraordinaire, is a cop?" Tommy chuckled, 'And she works Vice. I'm surprised she never arrested me at some point. So how did you find this out, anyway?"

"I wanted to talk with one of the detectives on the Vertigo case... find out if there was any hope they were close to catching the guy." Oliver shrugged, "Judge Brackett's only being this hardline because no one's made any real progress getting it off the streets. If they got the guy before the lawyers can't string it out anymore..." the lawyers Mom had hired had assured that they could keep this going for at least a few weeks.

But, the longer it went, the less likely they'd be able to pull of a deal for Thea.

 _Hopefully Detective Lance can convince him to back off before that happens._ Sara and Laurel had successfully convinced their father to try to call in a favor with the Judge, and Oliver could only hope that it would work. But until then, he had to try to deal with the Count, one way or the other.

Targeting dealers had been the obvious option, but none of them knew a face, none of them knew a name beyond 'The Count', none of them knew a location. The guy had to be based somewhere, if only to make the drug itself,

"When I heard I'd be talking to 'Detective Hall', I didn't expect her, but there she was." Oliver shrugged. "It was surprising, wondered if you'd known."

"Nope. Hadn't really heard from her in years anyway - you know how it goes, people just drift away sometimes..." Tommy shook his head, incredulously, then, "Well, if she's working Vice, she probably still goes to parties, undercover." He paused, then smiled, "though she probably keeps her clothes on the whole time. Gotta hide the badge and gun, after all."

"She said something similar," Oliver told him. He looked down at the construction papers, "Something going wrong?"

"No, actually, I think we might actually get things done on schedule, or nearly so, this time around. I've got inspectors coming around in a few days to get started on their nitpicking, but as far as I can tell, the club will be up to code by the time the construction's done without needing extra work." Tommy said.

"That's good to hear." And it was. The sooner it was done, the sooner he'd have even more cover for his activities, and the sooner it might, just maybe, be able to do some good for the Glades. Verdant was mostly just about a cover operation, but if he could help the Glades a little, make up for what his father did when he sent the factory operations overseas...

That would be a plus.

"Speaking of... Vertigo," Tommy said changing topic. "How is Thea holding up?" He set down the papers and looked across the counter at him, voice a bit lower, the concern evident.

"How is she holding up, or how is she _pretending_ to hold up?" Oliver asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That itself says a lot," Tommy pointed out.

"She's pretending to be cool with it," Oliver said, "She's trying to get back at Mom, so apparently she's okay with going to prison if it spites her. Or at least she wants us all to think that." He knew it wasn't true, or it wouldn't be true if Thea stopped and thought for a second, but then, she wasn't.

"Why? God, why? What could your mom have done for that to make _any_ sense at all?"

Oliver debated not saying for a moment, but then, "She think Mom is having an affair with your dad."

Tommy blinked, stared at him, then burst out laughing, doubling over even, holding onto the counter to stop himself from falling over. After a moment though, he regained control of himself, though he was still sniggering.

"That - that is disturbing and hilarious," He finally managed to say. "Dad, doing something as human as having an affair?" He scoffed. "That is-" he just laughed helplessly. "Your sister has quite the active imagination."

"Very," Oliver agreed. "But it's making her - it's making her want to do this to spite her, and..." he shook his head.

His sister had their Dad on a pedestal, like he'd long had, and had Walter on a slightly smaller one, though Walter, by all accounts, really was a clean as he seemed. But even as she'd put first her father, then her stepfather, on those pedestals, she'd always assumed the worst of Mom, every chance she got. It had been there before the Queen's Gambit, but it was much worse now...

 _I don't want to tell her the truth... but it might actually get her to..._ _ **something**_ **.** At least it might get her to stop spitting Mom at her own expense like this. A little.

 **The Foundry, Starling City**

 **March 1st, 2013**

"None of the Vertigo dealers have any idea how to find the Count, or even what he looks like," Oliver said, pulling the bow and quver off his back and almost - but not quite - slamming it down onto the table. "We need a new strategy."

The wall covered in punctured tennis balls showed pretty well what the current one had done to her boyfriend's mood.

"You sound like you have an idea."

"I do," Oliver admitted. "You're not going to like it."

"Oliver, there's very little I actually 'like' about any of what we're doing. It's just necessary, and the end result is worth it," Laurel pointed out. The idea of actually _liking_ being a vigilante was a disturbing one. Getting so into the act as to enjoy it...

There was something satisfying about laying a beat down on someone preying on others, and the challenge was a thrill, when there was actually a challenge - Laurel was a competitive woman - but to actually say she _liked_ it?

No.

And anyone who did _like_ it... well, that said all sorts of things about them, to her mind. This was a necessary task, not a fun hobby.

Oliver nodded, taking her point. "I think I should go to the Bratva, ask them to set up a meeting. To buy."

Laurel bit back her immediate thought of rejection at the idea. The Bratva were as much part of the problem as everyone else that the two of them had gone up against, and yet, they were useful.

She didn't know Anatoly as well as Oliver had, only joining him in Russia a few months before they both left, but he had once told them that when it came to organized crime, everyone had to at leats know the basics of how to get in contact with the other players, to avoid turf wars when possible, settle disputes, work against common enemies.

Still, the Count was reclusive - she'd done her part, trying to get low-lives in the Glades to see if there was anyone who knew how to find the source of the drugs, and nobody did. Everyone got it from someone else who got it from someone else. The Count appeared to be mobile and he left no witnesses.

Laurel let out a long sigh. "So what... Oliver Queen goes and buys drugs? That-"

"Would be entirely believable, given my track record," Oliver pointed out. "And they're not going to question a captain, as long as I play the role right." Laurel nodded a little, knowing he was right. But she didn't trust the local Bravta.

"I know - I know you don't trust the Bratva-" Oliver started, apparently reading her mind, but Laurel interrupted and shook her head.

"I trust Anatoly. I don't trust the guys here - if they ever get caught - mobsters flip all the time. What's to stop them from selling you out? And if you set up a meeting with the Count and then follow the Count to his base and take him out... they're not that stupid."

"They haven't been caught yet," Oliver pointed out. "They're clever, and careful. But I wasn't planning on taking him out the same night, unless there was no other choice. Or being the one to follow him," he added. "You're right, they're not idiots."

He sighed, "I don't trust them either, but they're too useful to not make use of. They came through with Lawton. They should be able to come through with the Count. Find a way to set up a meeting. Oliver Queen has a known history with drugs, and I am opening a nightclub."

 _Well, he's not wrong._ For someone who didn't know her boyfriend, the idea of him dealing Vertigo seemed all too plausible from the publicly available information. As he said, entirely believable.

"So you want me to follow the Count home from his meeting and take him out?"

"If you do, they might suspect something was up from that alone. But if you follow him to his base and then we both go after him. Vertigo is a problem for the Glades even more than it's a problem for the rest of the city. You told me that a month ago. I told you if you had any leads, I'd be there. Well... now we have a chance at a lead."

"True," Laurel nodded after a long moment.

"And you think you can convince the Count to have a meeting?"

"The man obviously likes money. That's something I have plenty of to work with," Oliver pointed out. "Even once the Bratva take their cut for setting the meeting up..." he shugged, and Laurel nodded. "Plus, I have this." He picked up the file of police evidence on the Count he'd taken from McKenna Hall - and hadn't _that_ been a surprise.

"It's not much," Laurel said skeptically.

"Which is why it's safe to give it to him, but the gesture of good faith might make him more inclined to meet," Oliver pointed out. Which was a good point.

Laurel bit her lip for a moment as she tried to think of a flaw in the plan, but she couldn't think of any glaring one, apart from the prospect of the Count not showing up. If she was there to follow the Count afterwards, she'd be on hand to help stop him if he decided to just take the money and run.

Then one thought did occur to her.

"What if the cops get wind of a meeting between the Bratva and the Count? That's the sort of thing Vice and Organized Crime would _have_ to try to stop." Laurel pointed out. "If someone sees you, recognizes you..."

Oliver opened his mouth, then said nothing, as if realizing that he didn't have an answer for that one.

"We should probably cover that base before you set up the meeting."

 **Parking Garage, Starling City**

 **March 2nd, 2013**

Laurel was a little surprised that the meeting had been arranged this quickly, but then, the just looking at the Count, she could easily surmise that this was a man who was used to moving fast, and doing things fast.

"... a good wine's value is measured by it's vintage - the number of years it took to ferment. Vertigo is measured in lives." The man said, opening the briefcase his goon held up, taking out a little package of pills. Laurel didn't move from her position, but she felt her hands tighten around the handles of her tonfas, the urge to come out and deal with the man now rising.

"56 people died to perfect this high. Believe me when

 _I'm breaking his teeth when I take him down._ Laurel resolved, as she watched, wishing that she could kill, or that she hadn't already talked Oliver into aiming to turn the Count in alive. _Get rid of that smarmy smile of his._

Even breaking his teeth was probably going too far, as satisfying as it would be to put the monster through pain.

 _I can't indulge in vengeance, I can't indulge in making people, even bad people, suffer,_ Laurel repeated the words like a mantra in her mind. She couldn't get into the habit of seeing criminals as anything but people.

 _The Count is human. An evil human, a terrible bastard, but he is a person._ She'd had to stop seeing the people she killed in the League as people. It had been the only way to function, for her.

If she started seeing the criminals of the city - even someone like the Count - as inhuman, started relishing in their pain and suffering...

Everything she was trying to do as the Black Canary would be ruined.

 _If I wanted to lay a reckoning on the city, I could do that. But I don't want that._

And she didn't.

She wished it could be that simple. But it wasn't.

And even if it was... the cost... in more than just lives, wasn't worth it.

She watched as the Count finished handing Oliver the briefcase - he'd made a deliberate an exaggerated show of it, playing up the moment like an actor on the stage. _He left dozens of bodies in the Glades, drained of their blood, with marks on their necks._

The Count liked theatricality.

But even as he stepped away from Oliver, the sound of police sirens went off, multiple police cars barreling in, lights and sirens blasting, and then, of course, when it rained, it poured, because her father was at the head of the cops, guns pointing at the collection of criminals meeting - or that's whta they assumed it was.

Laurel held still, trusting Oliver and Diggle to get out safely - they'd already planned for this, they'd come up with a cover story, they just needed to -

 _There!_ The Count started to run down the stairs, and Laurel had to follow, now, before she lost him.

Darting from shadow to shadow as quickly as she could, Laurel followed behind the Count, not close enough to be seen, not with him being distracted, but he'd left his goons and his car behind. He'd need a new ride, and until then, he was on foot.

She didn't break a sweat keeping up with his running pace. He was ahead, he was even sometimes momentarily out of sight, but even as she followed him out of the parking garage, she was still aware of where he was. He ducked down into an alley, pulling a phone from his pocket,

"... the police, yes, they decided to break up a very important client meeting!" The Count said quickly and quietly, walking back and forth with agitation. "Meet me with a ride back to the Lab at the fallback." a pause, " _Now!_ "

 _So he did plan a backup in case things went wrong._

That made sense.

"No, I won't have to worry about witnesses. He tried to run with me, probably hoping to use the same escape route. I have him a double-dose. Even if he lives, there's no danger he'll have anything useful to say to the police."

Laurel felt fear claw at her, grabbing at her throat and tightening it's grip, but she forced herself to take a breath as she watched the Count move down the alley - not walking slowly, but no longer running, striding quickly with purpose, but not on a blind dash to put distance between himself and pursuers.

Oliver and Diggle could handle themselves. The whole point of there being two of them, working together on the same mission, was to be able to cover twice the ground, do twice the work.

 _Ollie can handle himself. Diggle can get him to the Foundry, use the herbs..._

Laurel swallowed and then ducked down the alley after him, her years of league training making following him now that he wasn't even running childs play. She just needed to follow him to a car, tag the car with a tracker... and follow the car to make sure they didn't switch cars, but...

As long as she was careful, it would be an easy matter now.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **March 2nd, 2013**

"Talk to your sister, get her to make sure her boyfriend doesn't get himself, or _her_ killed," Sara's dad told her as he passed her desk.

Sara blinked, looking up from the forensics report she was reading. "Excuse me?"

"Queen decided that he was gonna play amateur detective. Paid some low-level Russian mobster to set up a meeting with the Count, pretending he was gonna buy in bulk so he could get... I dunno, a description, or something."

Sara blinked, "If this were six years ago I'd say that Oliver meeting with a dealer wasn't exactly news... but - that doesn't... what in god's name was he thinking?"

"He wasn't thinking _anything_." Her father complained, "He's desperate to get the Judge to lay off, and his sister has decided she doesn't want to take the community service deal. He said if they caught the Count before sentencing, Brackett may not be as interested in proving a point. So he wanted to get us a lead."

"By dealing with mobsters and the Count? The man's murdered dozens of people that we _know_ about!" Sara pointed out. "Is he crazy?!"

"He's insane, but he's trying to protect his sister." Her father shook his head and sat down. "I can understand it - it's why I made sure no one arrested him for interfering in a police investigation. Well, that and Laurel would stop talking to me if I did."

Sara couldn't help but chuckle at that. It was true. Not that it would stop her father - or her, at the end of the day - if it turned out that Oliver really had been up to something that really merited prison.

 _Except that you already think they are._

Sara inhaled sharply, trying to shut down that line of thought before it went any further. She didn't need to be thinking about her insane - and yet all to plausible - theory here at the precinct.

 _I need to talk to Laurel, I need to ask her, I need to ask Ollie... I need to confront them._

It couldn't be true, but it had to be. Everything pointed - and now this.

Oliver wasn't an idiot. Desperate or not, he'd never do something so stupid as meet with a murderer like the Count

"But as much as I can understand it, all Queen is doing is risking getting himself killed, and Laurel too, if he drags her into it." Her father added, "I tried talking to her, but she was on his side."

 _Because she's the Black Canary and he's the Hood, obviously..._

Except it wasn't obvious. Just possible. But...

Sara wasn't actually worried her sister or Oliver would kill her if she confronted them, but...

Then, if Oliver was capable of murder, and Laurel capable of accepting her boyfriend killing people...

Then did she know them at all?

"Oliver can't drag Laurel into anything. If she gets involved, it'll be because she drags herself," Sara found herself adding, even as she thought about what this could mean, if this was yet more proof that she was right, or proof that she wasn't. Because, if Oliver was the Hood, wouldn't he just kill the Count right then and there? Why would he even need to set up a meeting?

Every answer meant more questions, and every question made her question all the answers she already had.

 _This must be what going mad feels like._

 **The Foundry, Starling City**

 **March 2nd, 2013**

"Oliver, no, you _can't_ go!" Laurel grabbed her boyfriend's arm.

"We know where he is, but if the Count is smart, he'll be moving soon. He can't stay in one place forever and hope to not get caught," Oliver countered. " _And_ he's about to take the drug city-wide!

"Which means this is our chance and we should take him out now, yes, that's absolutely the case. But that overdose he gave you is still in your system!" Laurel interrupted. Oliver tried to pull her hand off of him, but she just tightened her grip, pulling him back, away from his bow. "I can take care of him, leaving him trussed up for the cops."

"She's right, Oliver," Diggle said, standing up, looking away from the computer screen - the tracker on the Count's escape vehicle still beeping not far from the old Juvenile Delinquent facility he set up shop in, that Laurel had tracked him to last night. "That stuff is still messing with you. You can't even see straight. So how do you think you're going to shoot straight? Let Laurel handle it."

"You shouldn't have to take him and all his men on alone," Oliver said quietly, turning to face her. The anger leached out of his tone, leaving only concern.

"No, I shouldn't. I'd rather have you there with me. But I can take them on, and we don't have time to wait - I would if we could."

"I can handle myself enough to be your back up," Oliver protested quietly.

"No, you really can't Oliver," Diggle said again. He grabbed a tennis ball and stepped away from the computer, holding the ball up between his fingers and thumb. "You hit the ball, you can go." he looked at Laurel, silently asking her if the deal made sense.

Which it did.

Because Oliver wouldn't be able to hit the ball, and he wouldn't force the issue. She nodded back to him, then stepped away from Oliver, letting go of his arm. Oliver quickly notched an arrow, aiming for Diggle and the ball, then after a long moment, he lowered the bow. He exhaled angrily, then put the bow down.

Diggle nodded and out the tennis ball down, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Fine," He said, taking a deep breath. He took Laurel's hand.

"Be careful - this guy..."

"He's dangerous, but we both know he's got knowing on League training," Laurel pointed out, with a small smile. "He's going down." She pulled Oliver close again and gave him a light kiss, before patting his chest lightly. "I'll be right back after I've rid the city of a drug dealer."


	18. Revelations, Part 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 18: Revelations, Part 1

 _The kidnap of Laurel Lance by Cyvus Vanch, a thug and would-be criminal kingpin, seemed like a minor thing. The rest of the city barely noticed it - it only made it onto the news afterwards, and seemed like just the story of a criminal trying to get even with the cop who had arrested him._

 _But Cyvus Vanch lived, even if he returned to prison._

 _And the ramifications of the kidnapping, of taking the sister of Detective Sara Lance, the kidnapping of the Black Canary..._

 _Well, they reached far beyond Vanch, in the end._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Coffee Shop, Starling City**

 **March 4th, 2013**

"This seems like a pretty public place for a blackmail scheme," Oliver murmured, looking at his phone to check the time. Felicity wasn't late - he'd arrived early with Laurel. The Count was in holding, his trial due to start... at some point. Soon, but exactly when, no one knew. But the police were crowing about their successful take down of the Count, and unsurprisingly downplaying the role of the Black Canary - the Banshee as the police still insisted on calling her, interestingly.

But the word of what had really happened had spread, and been all over the news.

Laurel didn't mind the lack of official credit - for inspiring the people of the city to stand up and fight back, word of mouth and 'reports the police refuse to confirm' worked even better, in some ways. The Black Canary couldn't be a concrete fact, but a symbol, an idea, a myth, a tall tale. That's what she told him, anyway, and while Oliver didn't totally follow her logic, he could see the shape of it.

"Maybe she's worried we'll kill her if she tries to blackmail us in private," Laurel murmured. The coffee shop Felicity had asked Oliver to meet her at - meet her with Laurel - was not very crowded this time of day. Oliver's face was famous in the city of course, and they'd attracted a few looks, but after that, everyone went back to more or less minding their own business.

"If she wanted to blackmail us, wouldn't she do it over the phone, or untraceable email or something? She *is* good at computers," Oliver shook his head. "No, nothing in her background or anything she's done or said so far makes me think she's going to blackmail us, and she's given no signs she's going to turn us in."

"I tend to agree with you, but then, why is she wanting to meet with us?" Laurel pointed out, their voices low, but not conspicuous whispers.

"Well, you might be right that she picked a public place to be safe..." Oliver murmured. He looked up a bit at the sight of Felicity walking into the shop and walking towards their corner table. She looked nervous. "I'm going to say she's figured it out." More or less as he'd expected. The question was - was she going to ask Laurel and him to leave her out of things for now, or did she want in yet _more_?

The blonde approached their table and sat down across from them.

"I'm sure - I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here. Both of you." She said quickly, quietly, looking a little conspicuous in the way she leaned in, almost drawing attention to the fact that she was speaking quietly. Laurel held up a hand,

"Take a breath, and just speak in a low voice," she cautioned the blonde. "Don't need to draw attention to yourself."

"Right - right," Felicity said, stumbling over the words a little. She took a breath. "I thought about just - just dropping by Queen Mansion and all, but that - that seemed like a bad idea. And this..." she trailed off a moment. "Not the thing to talk about at the office, right?"

"I'd know if you clarified what we're here to talk about." Oliver pointed out, and Felicity chuckled nervously. She took another breath, clearly deciding to keep following Laurel's advice.

Sometimes, Oliver was fairly certain that Felicity's style of verbal diarrhea and stumbling over her words was an act, somewhere between a show to put people at ease, and a defense mechanism to keep people away by making them think she had the worst case of foot in mouth syndrome.

Sometimes, though, it was obviously genuine. This seemed like the latter.

"Right." She paused, then, "The thing is - I've been debating whether or not to share this with you guys for weeks. You've dropped some pretty ridiculous lies on me, Oliver, and you weren't really much better the couple of times you've asked for my help either," she said turning to Laurel. "At least - not after Oliver's... are you _really_ that bad at it?" She asked Oliver. "I mean, how could you be-"

"If I was really that bad at it, I think things would have gone very differently months ago, with some pretty publicized events." Oliver said. _She knows._

"Right. That makes sense. But that -" she shook her head, "I don't want to know. Or - I don't think I want to -" she rubbed her hands together, then reached into her purse. "Lies and... other things aside, I think I can trust you both with this..." she took a small book from her pocket, a book that was very, very, very familiar. One he'd lived with every day for five years, one he still lived with, every day.

One that, since Christmas, had taken on an even greater urgency. And more questions.

Like, who wrote it, if it hadn't been his father? Who hired the Dark Archer? Why hadn't they sent the former League member after them again? Had he been spooked by seeing Laurel? Worried the League was onto him now?

And now, he had a brand new one.

 _ **How did Felicity Smoak Get Her Hands On A Copy?**_

There was no mistaking it, no mistaking the design, the handwriting.

It was a simple matter to school his features, as if this book was totally new to him

She handed the book to Oliver, and Laurel leaned in a bit, as if she too was seeing it for the first time, trying to get a look at the pages as Oliver looked at a few at random, seeing names that were familiar, names he'd already crossed off...

"Have you ever seen this before?" Felicity asked quietly, managing to avoid being suspicious about it this time.

"No... what is it?" Oliver asked, looking up.

"From your stepfather."

This time, Oliver couldn't stop himself from reacting, his throat feeling suddenly tight. Was Walter the person behind the List? An accomplice?

 _Or did he get this from my father? A copy for safekeeping?_

Oliver wanted to think it was that - why would Walter have disappeared if he was behind the List, Behind the Dark Archer?

 _Unless he faked being kidnapped - maybe Thea's jokes about a midlife crisis disappearance had merit, in the worst sort of way._ The most suspicious parts of Oliver's mind were now in motion.

"From Walter." He cursed a little in his head that his voice cracked as he said the words. "Did - did he tell you where he found it?"

"He said that... it belonged to your mother." Felicity said after a moment. Oliver felt Laurel's hand on his back, and he forced himself back under control, before he could say anything, interrupt Felicity. "He thought - he thought she was hiding something. Something more. A lot of something, possibly. He wanted me to look into it and then..." She trailed off, wringing her hands.

"He vanished."

"He vanished," Felicity echoed Laurel's words. "I don't - I don't know what that is. Some of the names - you know them pretty well... a lot of them, actually. But..." she shook her head, "I don't - I don't know what's going on. I don't - I don't think I want to know. I don't _know_ anything-" she cut herself off.

"Mr. Steele was nice to me. A lot of people aren't," she said after a moment. "I don't know why he vanished, but It has to be related to that book... and maybe it will help you find him, if... if it didn't cost him his life. But you... you have a better chance of finding out." She hesitated, then, "Because of your - your night jobs."

"Our night jobs." Oliver said flatly, clearing his throat slightly.

"I'm not an idiot. Your requests - they're pretty obvious, sometimes."

"Very."

"I don't - I don't need to know. I don't... I don't _want_ to know. Mostly. I mean - I have questions but - but I'm not going to ask." Felicity quickly added that last part, as if afraid of what they'd do if she didn't say that.

"Just - you don't need to lie, next time you need my help," she said finally. "Especially not - not if it might help you find Mr. Steele... or at least..." She trailed off, as if unwilling to say the obvious next two words.

 _His body._ Oliver couldn't quite say anything more. He was trying to avoid thinking through the ramifications of what Felicity had told him - not here, not in public. His control had cracked enough, a one two punch. He closed the book containing the List, holding it tight in one hand.

"That's good to know," Laurel said. "And... we'll bear that in mind."

"Good. Good." Felicity nodded. She started to get up, but Oliver looked up.

"Felicity." She paused, halfway out of her seat. "Thank you."

She didn't have to take what she'd probably worried was a massive risk, just to let them know she knew, get involved with something that could possibly blow back on her. She was already involved, when Walter had asked her, but she chose to get more involved. And offered to get even more involved.

 _Maybe we have a chance to find real answers. About Walter, about the Dark Archer - about the List itself._

Felicity started to say something, but then didn't. She just nodded, meeting Oliver's eyes for a moment as she did so, and left, walking quickly, but not running or rushing.

 **The Foundary**

 **March 4th, 2013**

"When I hoped that we'd have a lead on the List and the Dark Archer now that the Count was dealt with," Laurel remarked, looking at the extra copy of the List, "This... this is not what I had in mind."

"It's identical," Oliver said, setting both lists down. "Apart from the fact that this one has the pages that I tore out, on the island, before I realized what this was." He'd since copied the missing names into his copy of the list, so that there'd be no chance that the people on it could get away with anything.

"So Felicity got it from your stepfather, and he found it from your mother, if we can believe Felicity," Diggle recounted. "If you didn't believe her, you'd say so, so I think we can guess you do, right?" Oliver nodded, and Laurel did as well. She seemed to be genuine - Laurel didn't doubt the woman could lie - she'd gotten a job at Queen Consolidated despite her hacker past, but it didn't seem like she was lying to them then.

"The question is," Diggle went on, "was she right to believe Walter?"

"If Walter wasn't involved, he'd have no reason to lie about where he found the List, and if he was involved, why would he have Felicity look into it?" Oliver pointed out quietly. "Which means... he probably really did find it in my mom's things or..." he trailed off.

"And then he disappeared because he was looking into it," Diggle finished.

"We don't know that's why he disappeared!" Oliver protested for a moment, though he didn't believe it one bit. They'd looked into anything else Walter might have been involved in, and he'd come up clean - not even any tax shelters. The man had been scrupulously honest with his money, and with Queen Consolidated's money, and gotten the company involved in nothing even remotely shady, as far as they could tell.

"Dig, this is my Mom we're talking about. She's not - she's not the sort of person who would-"

"Have her husband disappeared?" Diggle interrupted. "Because that's certainly what it looks like from here." He leaned against one of the support columns as he spoke, the suspicion obvious in his voice. He'd made up his mind, at least tentatively.

 _And it's not like he doesn't have good reason to._

"Dig, none of Mrs. Queen's actions after Walter disappeared read even remotely like someone who was in on his disappearance," Laurel pointed out.

"People lie, Laurel. And if she's innocent, how did she have a copy of the List? For that matter, while we're thinking about that, how did your father get a copy of it?" He asked, the question one they'd all been chewing on since Christmas. He took a breath, "I know you don't want to believe your mother could be involved in this - but you have to ask yourself what else explains it?"

"Nothing explains this!" Oliver exclaimed angrily, standing up, making to throw his mother's copy of the List at the wall, but stopping himself at the last minute. He inhaled sharply, and Laurel walked over to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. He took another breather, slower this time.

"The list could have been a copy of my father's..." Oliver murmured, "but that still leaves the question of where he got it, and we still have no idea who wrote it." He looked at the two lists. His mother's was so much less the worse for the wear, understandably.

"And that still leaves us wondering what happened with Walter - and still needing to find out if your mother is involved, and how." Diggle brought it back. "Did Walter confront your mom about the list? Or anything related to it? Did she notice it missing? Was someone else spying on him? Someone had to know he was looking into things. But someone who _didn't_ know Felicity was involved, or she'd have been disappeared, or worse, too."

When Diggle put it like that...

 _If they were spying on Walter's office, they'd have known he approached Felicity, right? Which means..._ Well, Moira Queen was the only logical leak, right?

Unless they were missing something - and given how little they knew, that was pretty likely.

"We don't know enough to be sure about anything," Laurel pointed out. "We don't know where the List came from, who wrote it, how Mr. Queen got a copy of it, or how Mrs. Queen did. We know that Walter went missing as a result of looking into it, and that whoever wrote the List doesn't care about civilian casualties. And they have a lot of resources."

"Which means they're probably among the elite of the city," Oliver said softly. "Or close to them. It had to be someone my father could get the List from, in some way."

"Aren't most of Starling City's leading businessmen and women and all the rest of the one percenters in there?" Diggle asked.

"Pretty much, but not all of them." Laurel confirmed, thinking back to when she'd looked over the List for the first time. "Mr. and Mrs. Queen, Tommy's dad, Walter."

"Others that I knew, from parties or social events or dinners or fundraisers I got dragged to. And, not everyone on the List is a one percenter."

"True," Diggle noted, the reminder of his former friend Gaynor sour in his voice, though at least he'd long since gotten past any issues with Oliver on that front. "The person who wrote the List wouldn't put their own name on it, would they?"

"No..." Laurel said, wondering why what was occuring to her now hadn't occurred yet. But if the person who wrote the List was part of the elite - the most logical assumption. If they were someone who Robert Queen knew... and who knew Robert Queen, and Moira Queen in turn...

 _Then maybe we can actually meaningfully narrow the list of possible candidates for the author of the List down. Or at least... have a list in the first place._

"My mother isn't behind Walter's disappearance," Oliver said softly. "She wouldn't - she couldn't do something like that." He swallowed, "But obviously... she's connected somehow. She had a copy of the List, she has to have some idea what it is." He grabbed his mother's copy of the List. "The obvious solution is to ask her."

Laurel did a double take, "Wait, just walk up to her and ask-" she shook her head, "No, of course not. So...?" Just asking? That...

Well, it was a place to start. And better than suiting up and shooting arrows at his own mother.

"Walter gave me the list, a few days before he vanished, told me it was important, but didn't say what," Oliver said, the lie sounding perfectly genuine.

"If your mother is in on this, she's hardly going to tell you."

"If she lies, I'll know," Oliver said. "But if she knows something, and... and she's not involved in whatever is going on... she'll say something." He took a slow, deep breath, then met Laurel's eyes. "My mother can't be behind this - but if she knows something... something that could help us find the Author, and the Dark Archer... we have to find out. We don't have a limitless amount of time to stop him."

"Ollie-" She wouldn't ask him to start interrogating his own mother just for this-

"You both have good points, especially you Diggle. Walter's missing, possibly dead. Mom isn't. That... that is... something." His voice cracked a little as he spoke, then he shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "I'll talk to her in the morning tomorrow."

Laurel was about to open her mouth, say something in response, but then the phone linked to Sara started to ring.

"And I guess I have something I'm going to be doing tonight, possibly," Laurel murmured, as she grabbed the phone and pressed 'answer'.

 **Rooftop, Starling City**

 **March 5th, 2013**

"You said you wanted to meet," The Black Canary said, voice distorted once more, approaching her from another end of the roof.

Under other circumstances, Sara wouldn't have called on the Vigilante's help. Not until she could finally ask Laurel if she was the Black Canary. Or she found proof or something that could actually convince her her mad theory was wrong.

But the issue was, now that she had the idea, the theory, it had not left her mind, and everything seemed to confirm it. Even looking now at the Vigilante, it was easy to see the profile of her sister. _How did I miss it?_ The voice modulator still made sure the Black Canary didn't sound like her sister, if she _was_ her sister.

 _Goddamnit Sara, you just need to focus. Every second you waste on this is another second Cyvus Vanch gets to run free._

Inhaling sharply, Sara nodded, and forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. Right now, she needed the help of the Black Canary, needed her help to deal with Vanch. She had to focus on that. If the Black Canary really was her sister, the idea of asking her to deal with a man like Vanch bothered her - putting her at risk like that.

But if the Black Canary really _was_ her sister, then it didn't exactly matter how dangerous Vanch was.

The idea that her sister was capable of the things the Black Canary, the Banshee, whatever you called her, did, was hard to accept - but was it really so far from how she'd fought that Triad assassin?

 _Back on topic, Sara_.

Whoever the Black Canary was, it all had to take second place. This was bigger than her, bigger than Laurel, bigger than the Black Canary. Cyvus Vanch was a monster, and with the current vacuum in organized crime in Starling City, poised to take himself city-wide. There were leaders gone, and now footsoldiers and thugs that had worked for The Triad, the Bertinelli Organization, the remnants of the Count's crew, and all too many gangs in the Glades, all waiting for someone to hire them - free manpower, just waiting to be used.

"I did. I decided it was better here, than inviting a strange woman into my apartment," Sara remarked dryly. She handed a case file - a copy of Vanch's - to the Vigilante. It was all sorts of illegal to just hand the file over like that, but at this point, Sara didn't care.

 _The law let Vanch out on seven different kinds of technicality, tossing out good evidence obtained on good warrants._ Sara cared about the law, but it had failed here.

The Black Canary looked at the file, "Cyvus Vanch," she remarked, looking at the mugshot, his rap sheet, and the summary of all they suspected him for. "Human trafficking, racketeering, drug smuggling, 52 homicides... a real charmer."

"Bastard certainly likes to think he is. I was the arresting officer - he promised me he'd be out in less than a year, and look at him now." Sara felt her voice rising in volume. "The smug son of a bitch is living in his former lawyer's house. Officially, the lawyer is taking a vacation - but I know he's dead." That part didn't make much sense to Sara - the man might not have been able to get Vanch out of prison immediately, not with what they had on him, but he'd been able to get the man out in less than a year.

Just liked he'd promised.

 _Then again, Vanch doesn't need a reason to kill someone._ He was just a killer, a sadist, a monster. Probably literally got off on it.

"You want me to deal with him?"

"I don't need you breaking his bones and rupturing his eardrums and leaving him in the hospital, like the thugs you take out in the Glades, when you stop them in action. That just delays things. He gets back out, he'll be even thirstier for blood." Sara replied. "What I need is evidence, something that can be used to lock him back up."

"I'm not a lawyer, but I think anything I obtain would be inadmissible," The Black Canary pointed out. "Under most circumstances, anyway."

 _You wouldn't expect a vigilante to care about things like inadmissible._ Or even to use the term.

"I just need something, something that can get the department moving forward. Where to look, where to start. The DA's office needs fresh evidence, and Vanch can always hire another lawyer if we go after him without enough to go on." Sara hated all the ways the legal system could be used to protect the guilty. She knew enough ways that the rules could be exploited by bad cops without those protections - even with them - but that didn't change the fact that she hated it.

Sara just didn't know a good solution to the problem. And it was bigger than her anyway.

"Something we can use, that's all I'm asking for - if Vanch reestablishes himself, he's going to be a fresh plague on the Glades. I don't think you want that any more than I do." Sara told the vigilante.

"No, I don't," the hooded woman agreed. She closed the case file. "Evidence isn't really a major part of what I do, but I'll see what I can do."

"Just call me if you have something." Sara said. She started to turn away, then looked back, "Be careful," she couldn't help but add, in case this really was Laurel. "The city needs you."

"I don't think your colleagues would agree with you," The Black Canary commented. It was hard to tell behind her modulator, but she sounded a bit bitter about it, almost.

"More than you'd think, if you pressed them, for all that they wouldn't want to admit it." Sara disagreed. Lt. Pike had - to her father's great annoyance - been open about the fact that the demand to take down the Hood or the Black Canary had dropped quite a bit recently. Just yesterday, he'd been reassigned to a new case, one that was supposed to take priority over both vigilantes.

"But no, not all my colleagues would agree with that. But I've seen the statistics - crime has dropped, but even more important, the number of people in the Glades that have died, or been raped... that number's dropped too. A lot." The Black Canary's very... special way of dealing with would be rapists had made a big splash in the Glades. A few of them, according to the word on the street, would never really have fully working genitals again, for the damage she'd done to them.

 _Better scum like that deserve._

"I do what I can for the city," The Black Canary replied. She turned, then looked back at Sara. "I'll be in touch." The Vigilante ran, and made a running jump to the next rooftop, something that Sara usually would have considered to be a thing left to the movies - but something that the vigilante pulled off with grace."

 **The Foundary, Starling City**

 **March 6th, 2013**

"So she just tossed it into the fire? Like that?" Diggle demanded.

 _It's not like that!_ It wasn't so simple. His mother hadn't tossed it away, as if it was evidence that needed to be hidden. She threw it in the fire, trying to protect him, protect the family.

His mother would do anything to keep himself, to keep Thea safe.

"She was doing it to keep me safe, to keep the family safe."

Oliver said the words, knew them to be true, but she also understood Diggle, understood the logic of his argument. He knew how it looked. But he also knew his mother.

She wouldn't be behind this.

 _She'd do anything to keep us safe..._

"And she burned what, as far as she knew, was the only copy of the list in the process. That seems a little convenient," Diggle countered, sitting on the table. "Whoever is behind the list is dangerous, and probably up to something dangerous, we all agree on that."

Oliver inhaled, saying nothing, just staring at Diggle for a long moment. He looked over at his girlfriend as she started to say something.

"You don't hire a former League assassin for run of the mill crime," Laurel said. "The prices this Dark Archer could command on the open market means there has to be something important going on."

"Obviously, but my mother has nothing to do with it!" Oliver countered, raising his voice. "She's not the author of the list - she didn't recognize it at all."

"Then how did she have a copy of list?!" Laurel demanded, not raising her voice, but her words withering nonetheless. Oliver looked away. He didn't want to fight with Laurel - he hated it, any time they did. It was rare, these days, but if she was taking Diggle's side...

 _It's not 'sides'!_ Oliver told himself moments after having that thought. Laurel believed differently, but she wasn't taking another side just to win. She just... didn't agree.

"It was my father's - it was probably just something of his she kept," Oliver countered but it sounded week even to him.

"I thought you said she claimed she'd never seen it or the names on it before," Diggle pointed out, and Oliver clenched his teeth. "She didn't just say not to get involved, Oliver, because of the potential risk. She said people should stop asking questions. That's a pretty suspicious thing to say," He pointed out, leaning forward a bit, hands on his knees as he sat on the table.

"Really, suspicious," he pointed out. "Anyone else, you'd already be suited up and making threats!" the former soldier finished.

"But this _isn't_ anyone else!" Oliver countered. "This is my mother! I know her! I know she's not-"

"You thought you knew your father, Oliver," Laurel cut in softly, her words cutting in underneath his, sliding by his arguments like a knife to the ribs.

He'd thought he'd known his father. This great man, captain of industry, one of the great builders of Starling City, perfect, infalliable.

Not so much.

His father had been a good father, and Oliver refused to believe that he wasn't, at his core, a good man, but...

Robert Queen had cheated on his wife, he'd, by his own admission, poisoned and helped to destroy Starling City, and he'd been involved in _whatever_ was going on in the list. It wasn't his book of favors - had it been that, it would have _listed_ the favors owed, the context. It was a list of names for something more.

He'd thought he'd known his father, but ever since the Queen's Gambit went down, he'd been forced to realize he didn't know him. Not entirely.

"She has to know something - something specific, beyond just a generalized 'Walter disappeared after looking into this'. Stop asking questions is only something you say when you _know there are answers._ " Laurel continued, and Oliver's hands clenched and unclenched, his jaw tight.

He had nothing he could say to stop her.

He had thought he'd known his father, and he didn't, not totally.

Was the same true for his mother.

"I don't think your mother is _behind_ everything," she pressed, "But she knows something. She has to. It fits the available evidence." Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver say Diggle nodding.

"My mother isn't involved in-"

"Involved in what? We don't know. We don't have enough information to say what she was or wasn't involved in. But that's the problem." Laurel stood and walked towards him, but Oliver stepped back, away from her. Laurel drew up short, biting her lip, not looking at all happy that he was pulling away, but he needed a moment of space.

"Oliver, you're too close to this to be objective. You're right, this isn't anyone else, this is your mother - I was in something similar with Gaynor. You were right, i was wrong, because I was so sure he was the same guy I knew."

 _Gaynor was a thief and a murderer! He just wanted the money!_

"My mother isn't like Ted Gaynor."

"No, she's not," Diggle allowed, standing up, walking to stand by Laurel, crossing his arms in front of him. "She wouldn't be doing this for money, probably not. But you said it yourself - she wants to protect you, protect your family. If the man behind this List threatened you, threatened your sister? What would she do to protect them?"

Oliver opened his mouth, trying to protest, but the only word that came out was the truth. "Anything."

"Of course she would." Diggle sighed, "Look, you're right - you can't suit up and have an arrow-side chat with her. But that doesn't mean we can't try to find out more. I should have trusted you about Gaynor, or at least trusted you enough to have a chance to prove it. Give me a chance to do the same."

Looking intently at Diggle, Oliver narrowed his eyes a moment. "You have something in mind?"

"Her regular personal security guy - her driver mostly - is going to be taking a few days vacation - he does it every month, four days. It's what is ex-wife lets him have." That his mother's regular driver wasn't around a few days a month rang a bell with Oliver, vaguely. He hadn't known why, though. "Usually, she hires someone else from the security company to fill in. I could take the job, drive her around. If she's up to something, if she's involved in something..." he unfolded his arms, opening them up a bit. "And if she's not, nothing will come up."

Diggle held out a hand.

"If she's innocent, she's innocent. Wouldn't you rather be sure?"

 _This could be Gaynor all over again_. Diggle wasn't wrong. Laurel wasn't wrong.

But that didn't mean they were right either.

But there was only one way to be sure, wasn't there?

"I would." Oliver finally admitted. He took Diggle's hand, shook it for a moment. "Drive her around. See if anything comes up." He looked over to Laurel, "Do you need any back up for Vanch?"

"I don't think so," Laurel said after a moment. She approached him, taking his hand and holding it for a moment - Oliver didn't pull back this time. "We still have to work our way through the list. Sooner or later, the Dark Archer will come back out into the open."

"Alright. Good luck."

"Don't need it," Laurel smiled, "If I can't eavesdrop on a two-bit thug like Cyvus Vanch, I might as well hang up my tonfas right now."

 **George Wolfman's House, Starling City Suburbs**

 **March 6th, 2013**

Laurel lowered the night-vision binoculars as she stayed perched on the roof of one of Wolfman's former neighbors. They didn't know the lawyer was dead either, and in this neighborhood, you didn't pry on your rich neighbors, so no one was probably asking about the small army of gun-toting goons that had moved in now that Vanch had taken the place over.

Out here, people paid for privacy.

"Too many for me to try to take him out entirely, even if I wanted too," Laurel murmured into the concealed earpiece she was wearing under her hood.

Oliver's voice came back the other end, doing surveillance on his own next target from the list. "What about if I joined you?"

"Maybe. But I promised Sara I wouldn't do anything beyond trying to get information," Laurel replied. She toyed with her sonic device for a moment, then shook her head. That would get rid of the guards, make it easier, but again, conspicuous - he'd known she was onto him, and that could change his plans entirely.

What she needed, really, was to know what his plans were, and then tell Sara. Then he could be arrested in the process of doing whatever it was he had planned.

"I think she's starting to suspect something - she's been avoiding us a lot recently, or is it just me?"

"No, it's not just you. I think she's starting to suspect something. Or maybe I'm just getting worked up over nothing. She works almost as much as dad sometimes did." She shook her head.

"You wanted her to find out, eventually. Wasn't that the plan, have her guess?" She could all but hear Oliver raising his eyebrow with that question.

"Not yet,not now. And I wanted her thinking about it, wondering about it, but not quite as much as I'm worried she is." She sighed, "I'll have to say something soon. After Vanch is dealt with."

"How much do you plan to tell her?"

"Enough," Laurel said, her voice almost too low to be picked up by the earpiece. "Enough that there's no risk she'll keep crushing on Nyssa."

"What?" Oliver's sudden shift in tone was almost comical.

"Yeah - I didn't tell you about that?"

"You mentioned that you ran into her at the library after meeting with Nyssa. Not that Sara crushed on her."

"Well, 'crushed' might be too strong, but she was definately bowled over by Nyssa's looks. And asked if Nyssa was single." She heard Oliver half-scoff, as if he didn't want to believe her, but had to.. "Yeah. I tried to warn her off, but I'm not sure she took it seriously. But it's not like there's going to be any danger of them running into eachother again, so it's not that big of a deal." Even as she said it, she muttered an Arabic swear, realizing what she'd just done by saying that aloud.

"Laurel, saying something like that is only going to make sure they somehow manage to constantly meet." Oliver pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Laurel muttered, "I regretted it as soon as I said it."

Slipping the binoculars into her pocket, Laurel dropped down from the roof quickly and silently, landing softly and smoothly, darting to the fence between the neighboring property and Wolfram's - it was a simple matter to get over the fence in a patrol blind spot. Getting any closer to the building would be harder.

Fortunately, the lights were on out on the patio. She might not have to get that close. Not inside the building, not close to the building, just close to the patio. But she had to get around the building.

Carefully, quietly, she darted into the shadows of a tree, then kept going. There was no one better at teaching the arts of Stealth than the League, and she put all she knew to good use, avoiding the guards. Eventually she drew close to Vanch having an almost romantic-looking dinner with the woman Sara's police file identified as his girlfriend, Vivian. She turned on the directional recorder, ducking into the bushes and getting as close as she could, aiming it at Vanch. This didn't have to be good enough to stand up in court - just enough to give Sara an idea of where to start.

"... the giant sucking sound is the current power vacuum in Starling City - one that I plan on filling." Vanch opined, before taking a sip from his wine. _Not a bad strategy._ Between herself and Oliver, a lot of low-level criminals in Starling City were out of a job.

"How are you going to convince the Triad and Bertinelli's crew that they should sign up with you?" Vivian asked, though it didn't sound like she doubted her boyfriend ability to accomplish the task.

"A good question," he said, putting his fork down. "I need to do something. Something... major. Noticeable. Something that makes the criminals of the city see that I'm the one to make them rich, and powerful."

"Sounds like you have something in mind." _Here we go._ She rustled the bushes a little trying to lean in closer, and paused a long moment as Vanch kept talking, heart stopped, but no one seemed to have heard.

"Do you want to know the first thing I learned in prison?" Vanch was clearly rhetorical as he went on. "I learned that the way to be respected is to find the biggest guy in the yard, and put him down permanent." _A simplistic form of respect._ There was more to respect than that, even among criminals, but most didn't understand the complexities. She'd wondered if Vanch, based on his record, would have been a little bit of a higher class of criminal.

Obviously not.

"The Hood."

"Or his screeching girlfriend. I'm not picky. I'd rather both - but they don't always come as a package deal. I just need a way to lure one in. With any luck, take out one, the other will come running."

 _His screeching girlfriend?!_ Vainglory wasn't really one of Laurel's issues, but she had to admit, it became suddenly very hard to stop herself from smashing Vanch's face in right then and there.

Still, Laurel had to admit he had a good idea, for building a new criminal empire. The price on the Black Canary's head - not an actual price, but close enough. - was quite high in the Glades, and everyone was scared of the Hood, especially in organized crime, or so was the word on the street, overheard as she worked, or passed onto her by Sin.

"But all that has to take second place to the first order of business," Vanch said, picking up his fork again.

"Oh?" Vivian's voice actually sounded surprised her, as if she hadn't expected this.

"I have a rule - cops don't get to arrest me without getting what's coming to them. Detective Lance needs to pay for being the one to put me in cuffs," Vanch said flatly.

 _No you don't you little -_

Laurel pulled out of the bushes, all thought of leaving him untouched flying out of her head and she made to jump over the bushes, onto the patio and to charge him - movement behind her stalled her, though, and she turned, one Vanch's goons pointing a gun at her.

And getting too close in the process. _Not smart. Teach your goons better._

"Hands up, Banshee."

"It's Black Canary," Laurel replied, lunging out, - her arm pushed his up, forcing the gun away from her, but he still managed to pull the trigger, the spray of bullets shooting up into the air and alerting everyone to her presence.

Laurel kicked his legs out from under him, grabbed him to break his fall, and threw him into the bushes, entangling him as she hit him in the side of the head, bolting for the fence and the edge of the property as more goons started to converge on her location - three more drew close, raising their guns, and Laurel activated the sonic device, not stopping moving as the sound forced all three to drop their guns and cover their ears in a futile effort to block the high-pitched sound.

 _Damnit!_ Laurel couldn't take him out on her own now, now that the entire place was on high alert, but she'd be damned if she gave him any more opportunity to take out her sister. She just needed an opening - and she needed it yesterday.

 _I have to warn Sara. And then I have to try to stay glued to her._ Vanch was not going to touch one hair on Sara's head.

 _He hurts her, and I will_ _ **break**_ _him._

He'd live, but he'd wish he hadn't, by the time she was done with him.


	19. Revelations, Part 2

**Disclaimer:** As usual, not mine.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 19: Revelations, Part 2

 _Every criminal - the ones with a little brains, anyway - wants to learn the identity of the superhero, the vigilante, the one that's always messing with their plans. The one that's screwing with their bottom line, ruining the schemes, jailing them._

 _Every criminal._

 _But once you've learned that... well, then what? Do you try to take them out when they're not masked? Do you try to turn them in, if they're on the wrong side of the law? Do you hem them in, press in on their real identity, their life, try to tangle them up in red tape and minor problems, make them too busy to focus on you?_

 _Or, do you do what criminals with just enough brains to get themselves into just a bit too much trouble do, and kidnap and threaten their loved ones?_

 _The truly smart criminals don't try to learn a superhero's identity so they know who to target._

 _They try to learn a superhero's identity so they know who to_ _ **avoid**_ _._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **March 7th, 2013**

Sara hadn't been sure how long she should expect to wait to hear back from the Black Canary after she'd spoken to her the night before last.

The answer, as it turned out, was a day and a half, she found, after her phone rang while she was at work, looking into Vanch's old associates. A few had skipped town, a few more were dead it had turned out, and others had signed on with other groups, or at least that's what the word on the street was. So it didn't give her much to go on. She was about to get up, grab one of her CIs, see if he could shake a lead loose, when the phone the vigilante had given her rang.

Ducking into a hallway, and then into an empty interrogation room, Sara answered the phone.

"Detective Lance."

"Detective," The distorted voice said, then, "I know what Vanch is planning - you." It was hard to tell, given the distortions, but it almost sounded like the Black Canary's voice was shaking in anger.

"Me?" The question almost seemed pointless, but she couldn't help but ask it, even though the answer was obvious - she'd been the one to arrest Vanch, and now he wanted revenge. Sara inhaled sharply, then closed her free hand into a fist, digging her nails into the base of her palm.

Being a cop, being a Detective. Dangerous work. She'd risked her life, more than once. Had people shoot at her. But only once before had she had someone specifically target her - Somers and the Triad - and that had gotten her very, very close to dying.

 _If Laurel hadn't been there..._

Laurel.

She couldn't say something now, of course, not with a chance of being overheard, but she had to speak to the Canary, had to have a meet with her, had to confront her, ask her. But she should ask her sister, in case she was wrong, right?

 _Well, if I'm right, it's the same thing..._

But she was wrong, well, at the very least it would be mortifying. Better to be wrong with her sister, if she was wrong, than with a vigilante that turned out _not_ to be her sister.

 _Except I can't possibly be wrong._

Sara shook her head, trying to get back on topic, knowing she was just trying to distract herself from the target on her back.

"Vanch wants revenge for you being the one to arrest him," the Black Canary confirmed. "Then he plans to go after the Hood, or me."

"Wait, on purpose? I mean, I knew Vanch was crazy, but I didn't think he was _that_ kind of crazy." Sara couldn't help but laugh, even as the idea of her sister or Oliver being in the sights of a man like Vanch clawed at her.

 _I don't know for sure!_

"He thinks it will be a suitably powerful gesture to make all the low-level muscle that have lost their employers recently sign up with him. Bertinelli's crew, the Triad, among others." The Triad in Starlight had been hurt bad by Somers being taken down, especially after he turned States' evidence on his former buddies. He'd been moved to a much more secure holding cell since then too, for obvious reasons, according to the grapevine.

"Damn. That actually makes sense." Thus like Vanch and the people he was trying to reach out to only understood force.

"But that will only be after he takes you out, Detective. You need to lay low. I can take-"

"No, no, no. You've done more than enough." Sara interrupted quickly. "I will deal with Vanch. If he comes after me, I can get him for attempted murder, conspiracy commit attepted murder, probably assault." Sara waved a hand dismissively, sounding more confident than she felt, though she also did feel reasonably sure she could handle him. Just as long as she was careful.

But she wouldn't _lay low_. She wouldn't hide, or act like he had her rattled.

"I can handle Vanch. Especially now that I know what he's going to try."

"Don't be so overconfident, Sara," the Black Canary said, and for a moment, Sara had a flashback to playing board games with her family as a teenager, with Laurel and Dad and Mom, and being so _sure_ she'd win, and then Laurel saying that and managing to beat her with some come from behind strategy, or just some really lucky rolls of the dice.

 _It's her. It has to be._ It was a stupid thing to latch onto, but it... somehow, that was the piece of evidence that convinced Sara her sister really was the Black Canary.

Sara pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment and inhaled a shuddering breath as the monumental admission she was making to herself hit her - no more attempts to deny it, no more flagging bad arguments, no more other possibilities.

 _The Black Canary is my sister. Dinah Laurel Lance is the Black Canary._

Sara swallowed, inhaled again, then brought the phone to her ear again.

"I'm not being overconfident. I can take care of myself - his best chance was to take me by surprise, and now that's not going to happen." Sara pointed out, entirely truthfully. "There's only so much directly going after a cop in broad daylight that he can do. Starling City may have a crime problem, but members of the police department don't get gunned down in drive-bys on a regular basis. This isn't... I dunno, Ciudad Juarez or whatever."

"Not on a regular basis, but Vanch isn't 'a regular basis', Detective Lance." Laurel replied. _Might as well just keep sticking with it._ "You can do everything right and still end up dead. Don't take risks. Stay safe. And _don't_ go after Vanch."

"One way or another, I'm getting Vanch back in prison. Without you tainting the evidence by beating him up!" Sara countered. "I don't let my father tell me what cases not to investigate, and he's a senior detective. I'm not letting you tell me what I can and cannot do." Sara snapped, reminded of all the times her sister had tried to tell her what to do or not do.

 _You're not my mom_. She nearl said that much, but she bit it back. She needed to wait to confront Laurel in person, tell her she knew the truth then. This wasn't the conversation to have over the phone.

"You're taking a stupid risk, but I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you from here. But there's nothing you can do to stop me from dealing with Vanch myself."

"If you beat him up before there's evidence of him committing a crime, he doesn't go to prison! Vanch is dangerous even from a hospital bed."

Her answer was the dial tone, as the Black Canary hung up.

 **Near the NOVA Offices, Starling City**

 **March 7th, 2013**

 _Damnit Sara_.

Laurel hadn't been able to get her conversation with her sister out of her head all day, and it had distracted her from her work, but fortunately it hadn't caused too many problems - she'd moved slower than she'd have liked to, probably made a few less calls than she'd have liked to, but it wasn't like she did nothing.

Still.

 _Damnit Sara._ Usually, her sister's headstrong nature worked in her favor, even if it meant she might go too far, but still. It made sure she didn't give up, even when the odds were against her.

Now, though, now, that might get her sister killed.

It had been hard not to leave work immediately when her sister had made that call, but Laurel had held back. Oliver was keeping an eye on her, and as much as she hated to admit it, her sister had a point - Vanch wasn't likely to make a move in broad daylight.

But that broad daylight was ending soon, and so Laurel was on her way to the Foundry. The plan was to switch places with Laurel, let Oliver do his own recon on Wolfram's place, and then they could make a plan for a combined attack on the place. Vanch had too many people for her or Ollie to take out alone.

He might _think_ he even had enough for the both of them, but if there was one thing that she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, it was that, together, there was no two-bit thug in the city that could stop her and Oliver. Not even a three-bit thug, as Vanch probably was, could do anything to seriously stop them.

Turning down a side-street, Laurel headed to Verdant, Laurel kept her eyes on the road as she turned on NPR. She'd made the trip enough times to know how to get there, and the traffic wasn't bad. She turned down another side-street, avoiding any risk of traffic by going this way, but then she found herself at a traffic light, stuck at red for a moment. Another car reached the crossing intersection right as it went green for her, though.

 _Terrible timing for them_ , Laurel noted idly as she hit the acceleration, started to move and -

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for a moment, though she knew it was just a trick of her brain - the other car ignored the red light and rammed straight for her, going faster than she'd have thought it could from a total stop, the empty passenger side of the car caving in on her under the kinetic force. She had tried to swerve, tried to avoid, but to no avail. Though she managed to avoid smashing her head against the window with serious force, she did still hit the side of her head against the inside of the car.

Pain exploded in her skull, and Laurel tried to shake it off, feeling dazed, but knowing she was in danger. This had to be deliberate - the timing of that car coming at her, head on.

But who? Why? Was it her in particular they were after, or just someone in a fancy car? Her thoughts raced in a circle as she groped for her phone, car alarms blasting in her ears, everything a bit blurry for a moment. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a half-dozen armed men coming out from buildings around the intersection, and then another man - and this one she recognized. She forced the door of her car open, diving out as a hail of bullets went where she'd just bit, smashing through the driver's side window, and then two goons were on her. Laurel dropped to the ground, kicking out at the legs of one, knocking his feet from under her, and then grabbing the base of the other's shirt, leveraging him and tossing him a bit forward, jumping to her feet - and having to drop again as another spray of bullets passed where she'd stood up.

The sound - and lack of damaged brickwork - they made as they hit the building in front of her suggested they were rubber bullets, not real ones, and Laurel, head throbbing, realized what was happening.

 _This is Vanch._

Vanch wanted Detective Lance. What better way to get her than her seemingly defenseless sister?

Laurel rolled, got to her feet again, and charged the one that had just shot at her - it was a simple matter to knock him back, then drive him to the ground - but before she could do anything else to him, she was swarmed - and then a sudden, driving pain right into her back. Laurel dropped to the ground, feeling her body writhe involuntarily, pain spiking everywhere for a

moment, leaving her throbbing head a secondary matter.

Vision swimming, Laurel saw Cyvus Vanch, a smug shit-eating grin on his face. "Well, well I'd heard that you handled yourself for a minute when China White tried to kill your sister, but I admit, Miss Lance, you've surprised even me." he held up the taser, grinning.

 _Where did he hear that? Police report? How did he-_

"I admit, I love a girl who can take care of herself - and can't stop a taser."

Before Laurel could say or so anything, not that she would have been able to for a bit longer, Vanch fired up the taser again, the current flowing into her and as pain ripped through her, her muscles momentarily on fire, arching her back.

But she didn't cry out.

As bad as the pain was, this was nothing to what she'd recieved at the hands of the League.

But still, everything went black within moments.

 **The Foundry, Starling City**

 **March 7th, 2013**

Sara was safely in her apartment, and there was no one watching the place. They couldn't leave her alone there for too long, but once he suited up, and Laurel got here, they could make sure she was covered, and then go after Vanch.

Diggle was waiting there for him, seated in front of the computer, watching the stairs as he came down.

"Something happen with my mom?" Oliver asked. He was still unhappy about the idea about letting Diggle spy on her, but Laurel had been right - he needed to let Diggle find proof, if there was proof. If his mother was somehow... impossibly connected to something bad, it was better to know.

And he owed it to Diggle to let him check it out, after the whole mess with Gaynor.

"She's fine, back at the mansion, no problem. I know you and Laurel are off to go take out Vanch, but... you might want to hold up, just a little." Diggle said, his voice low, tone grave, sounding... apologetic?

"Diggle, I really do not have the time for the awkward apologies where you tell me my mom's not up to anything-" he started, but Diggle interrupted, holding out a small recording device.

"Awkward part's coming up," Diggle said softly.

"You _bugged_ my mother?" Oliver asked coldly, even though, even as he said it, he knew how absurd it was to be upset. Of course Diggle would record anything that was proof. He'd have to. And he'd placed a bug in Diggle so...

Laurel would be telling him to listen first, to trust Diggle, and of course, that it was only fair, given what Oliver had done with regards to Gaynor. Given that he had bugged Diggle without telling him.

"Right. Of course you did. Proof." Diggle nodded, and Oliver started the playback.

'...It's taken care of.' The audio was scratchy, imperfect, but that was his mother's voice, sure enough. 'I've taken care of it... will not be a problem anymore.' _what will?_ There was a distortion, an issue with the recording. It was hard enough to make out the other words, but the 'it' his mother had taken care of?

'Given your propensity for squeamishness, I'm assuming that... remains in good health.'

 _Squeamish? My mother?_ He'd never have thought someone would describe Moira Queen like that... but...

 _Assuming... someone remains in good health?_ How - how would that even in question? Why would...

The voice... he couldn't identify it, he couldn't... it was deep, distorted by the recording. Presumably a man, but... it was impossible to say. But...

Who -

Who was his mother talking to that so casually implied that...

Implied murder? Or... something close?

Oliver kept listening, confusion and horror mounting in him, building in his chest.

'I made it clear to him persuasively than his plans endangered the Undertaking. I didn't have to make the usual threats.'

 _The what?_ He could imagine his mother making threats to ruin someone socially, or financially, or otherwise rue the day they crossed her - she _had_ , for that matter, with nosy reporters who went too far, before the Island. Probably a few other people who crossed her.

But...

Death threats? Threats of violence.

What-

What was his mother up to?

'Excellent,' the same man said, voice still impossible to make out details of. 'One more matter to attend to. I need you to have the contents of this address removed and disposed of thoroughly.'

 _That could be anything..._ other contexts, that could be relatively harmless, but paired with someone who spoke casually about murder, death threats... who was working with his mother on something called 'The Undertaking'?

Nice, harmless things didn't have vague labels like that. Plans that weren't going to hurt people weren't given such... sterile names. Oliver had learned that much time and again in the last five years.

'The warehouse where you're storing the remains of the _Queen's Gambit_.'

 _THE WHAT?_ No, no, no - the Gambit was at the bottom of the North China Sea. It - if someone had found it, wouldn't he have heard by now?

And why - why would his mom have it? And tell-

It would have come up, right? At some -

'I already told you,' his mother replied, 'I knew Robert's yacht was sabotaged.'

Oliver felt wetness in his eyes - just a touch, not tears, just...

He didn't even know what. He felt like... something was sitting on his chest. Something heavy. He couldn't breathe very well for a moment, he-

"I'm sorry man," Diggle said softly, bringing him back to his surroundings.

"The yacht - was sabotaged?" Which meant... it could only mean that - "Somebody tried to kill my father?" And succeeded, even if not at the exactly moment of the ship sinking.

Oliver had never known why - he'd always assumed it was the storm, or... something wrong with the Yacht, or... pilot error. But sabotage?

Why? Who - who would want to kill his father?

A business rival? His father said the corporate world got ruthless and dangerous but... he'd always said it like he was exaggerating. If it was a rival, wouldn't they have tried to... _do_ something about it? As far as he could tell, Queen Consolidated was... doing as well as it ever was, more or less. So...

That failed?

But...

Oliver turned to the List, in it's book, sitting on one of the tables.

The List his mother had burned. The List Walter was looking into. The List. The thing his father had deemed so important to record a message for him about, something he'd made sure to have on him when running for a lifeboat.

A List that had been written by someone else. By a man with the resources to hire a former member of the League. Someone who had set out to kill the people on it, once he visited them.

"And your mother was involved, somehow."

 _Did she - did she try to kill him?_ She'd told Robert Queen had cheated on her. A lot. Was it... revenge? Some sort of...

 _But she wouldn't do it with me on the boat. And she knew..._ even with this, he didn't doubt...

Oliver wanted to deny, wanted to snarl at Diggle that he didn't know if his mother was involved... but-

She was. Maybe... maybe she wasn't the one who tried to kill his father. But she had evidence, and did nothing. And if the other man wanted that evidence disposed of, then he had to be the one who...

 _That man is the author of the list. That man hired the Dark Archer._

 _That man, whoever he is, killed my father._

He didn't know for sure, but...

He _knew_. It had to be.

"She did not - she wouldn't have done anything to the _Gambit_ with me on it!" Oliver shot back, finally finding his voice, managing to say something.

"Maybe not," Diggle allowed softly. "But she kept this a secret. Which means she has _something_ to hide."

Oliver just shook his head, his head buzzing, too much -

Too much. He couldn't -

 _I don't... I can't even - there's..._

Oliver needed to stop and process this. Try to clear the audio up. He needed - he needed answers. And he needed to talk to Laurel about this, get her thoughts. Whatever else, whatever they did, they had to do this together.

And if his mother was involved with the person who had put them through five years of hell?

Laurel needed to know the _Gambit_ was sabotaged.

Before Oliver could say anything, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, ready to throw it against the wall, the interruption not at all timely. It was Sara.

Which reminded him what the plan for tonight had been. The threat on Sara's life. That Laurel...

Laurel.

Where was she? She should be here by now. Hell, she should have beaten him here in the first place, but he'd just assumed she'd been held up or something but...

His instinct was to ignore the call, but -

If something was wrong - he had to answer. Why Sara would call **him** if something was wrong but -

"Hello?"

"Oliver," Sara's voice said, cracked, fearful, like she'd just been through something akin to what he'd just gone through, some horrifying revelation. It was wavering, but not weak. "Cyvus Vanch has Laurel. He's taken her hostage. And - I know you're the Hood. I know she's the Black Canary."

 **Sara Lance's Apartment, Starling City**

 **March 7th, 2013**

Sara was not one to pace, but she wished she was, she wished she could do something, anything to make the time move faster. Oliver was on his way - it wasn't a conversation to be had over the phone. He said he'd be here quickly, but she needed him here _now_. She needed answers.

And she needed her sister back, safe.

She'd been back in her apartment for all of fifteen minutes when she'd gotten a call on her cell phone. Vanch shouldn't have even had that number - his words made it clear where he must have gotten it from, though.

"Hello Detective," Vanch had said, probably thinking he sounded all intimidating and clever with his tone of voice. "Did you miss me?"

"Vanch," she'd replied, drawing up short in her kitchen. What the hell did he want? Did he have goons coming for her right now? Was this some sort of pre-attack taunt?

Those thoughts on her mind, she'd grabbed her gun as she held the phone to her ear, flipping off the safety and walking slowly back into the living room, a clear view of the door, able to duck back into the kitchen if she had to...

"What do you want?" She'd demanded.

"Well, thought I'd ask if you lost something recently. A certain... sister, maybe?" Before Sara could actually process his words, she got the beep of a text, and on instinct as much as anything else, she pulled her phone away from her ear and looked at the incoming text.

A photo.

A photo of her sister, unconscious, in chair, hands behind her, zip-tied.

She had a bruise on her temple, and a small cut above her eye, but she looked alive.

Sara had then brought the phone to her ear again, snarling out the next words, "Vanch, if you so much as _touch_ her again-"

"You'll read me my rights and throw me back in prison? I think not."

"I'll kill you," Sara had corrected. "You think I care about the rules if you come after my family? Let. Her. Go."

"Oh, but I will," Vanch had lied blithely. She knew where this had to be going, knew this was going. Vanch wanted her. And he'd done what made sense to an uncreative thug like him - kidnap her sister, hold her hostage, get her to come to him.

He didn't know he'd kidnapped the Black Canary. But even she could hardly take him on, alone, unarmed, no mask, probably no sonic device, whatever it was and however it worked.

 _Oliver. I need to call Oliver._

"I will when you come to my place - I'm sure you know where. Let's have a little sit down, a chat. And you'd better hurry up - because if you're not here by sunrise, I'll leave pieces of your sister all over town."

"You won't let her go," Sara had responded, breath catching in her throat a moment, fear partially replacing anger. She swayed where she stood and she realized her gun was shaking, her hand shaking, her whole body shaking just a little but, with the adrenaline that both emotions had to pumping into her bloodstream.

"Maybe not. But I can tell you thing that's certain. If you don't show, your sister **will** die. And it would be such a shame for such a pretty girl to end up dead. But here's the fun part, Detective. If you talk to any other cop - _especially_ your father - then your sister will be long dead by the time anyone gets here. And believe me, I'll know."

Vanch was a liar, but even the _possibility_ of him having someone in the Department, a cop or a civilian employee there, keeping an eye, an ear open...

She couldn't take that risk. Not when the obvious option showed itself.

"I'll be there," she'd told him. "I'd put my affairs in order if I were you," she added, fully intending to kill him when she saw him next. The law be damned, everything else be named, _nobody_ hurt her family. Especially not her sister, her sister she'd _just_ gotten back. She'd thought Laurel was dead for five years.

She wasn't going to risk losing her again.

"Oooh, death threats. Two in this conversation alone. I don't think you have it in you, but I suppose we'll see, won't we?" The call ended.

Sara had stood there for a moment, gripped by terror for her sister, immobilized but for a moment. Then she'd dialed another number from her contacts.

And now she was waiting for Oliver to get here. She wanted, needed answers, but the answers would have to wait.

There was a knock on the door, and Sara immediately pointed her gun at the door, finger close on the trigger.

"Sara," Oliver's voice said from the door, curt, direct, almost flat. "Open the door."

Sara quickly crossed the living room, opened the door and stepped aside, slamming the door shut when Oliver stepped in. He was still wearing street clothes, but he had a duffel bag in. His suit? His bow and arrows? Had to be.

"Oliver. He has her," she said again, speaking quickly. "He has her. He's going to kill her by sunrise if I don't show up, sacrificial lamb to the slaughter."

"That's not going to happen, Sara," Oliver said. "I'm sure you have hundreds of Questions, about me, about Laurel... I don't understand how you-"

"How do I know? Jesus Oliver, I'm a _cop_. And apart from Tommy, I know you two just about better than anyone, even Dad, for Laurel. Something's been wrong since you came back. I thought it was just PTSD, at first, adjustment issues. When I found out you hadn't been alone on the island, that someone had tortured you-" she shook her head, "I thought that was it. And the - and now - and now _this_! It explains the evasiveness, the vanishing, Laurel being able to take on that Triad assassin, how the Hood and Black Canary were there both, so quickly when Lynns showed up at Verdant! That's your base, isn't it? That's why you have the club, as cover?" Sara shook her head again at that sudden realization. It was irrelevant.

"If explains your injuries over Christmas, and it explains how Laurel's 'old college friend' Nyssa Raatko is a wanted assassin that had an ARGUS agent crawling up my ass for just knowing the name!" Sara finished, fighting every urge to raise her voice. The walls in this building weren't exactly thin, but you could hear shouts and arguments.

"Sara-" Oliver started, eyes widening a little, but Sara shook her head.

"Not now. God - I have so many questions, so many things I need to know," She was still speaking quickly, and now she _had_ started pacing, unable to stand still. "How is Laurel okay with you being a murderer!? How is she friends with an assassin!? How did you two learn to do this?! What is even going on!? I have every question imaginable."

Sara stopped and looked directly at Oliver. "But the only important question right now is this - how are we going to get Laurel back?"

Oliver nodded after just a moment. He set the duffel bag down on the coffee table and opened it, pulling out a green hood, a bow, a quiver of arrows, and more. And then he tossed her a bullet proof vest, which she caught against her chest. It wasn't police issue. But it looked like it would be just as good. Maybe more so.

"He's holed up at his former lawyer's house, like you told Laurel," Oliver. "She scouted it out last night. He has at least two dozen men waiting for him. More than either of us could take on alone." Oliver quickly suited up, like a comics superhero.

"We were going to take him out tonight." Oliver said. "Deal with his men, cripple him at the very least. Find more direct evidence, if we could."

Sara scoffed, despite the situation, "So even after I asked her not to, told her not to, she wasn't going to leave him alone."

"We weren't going to sit there and leave him be with him gunning for you, Sara. But Like I said, he has more men than I can take on alone." He pulled two flashbangs from the bag, and Sara didn't even _want_ to know where Oliver had got those - those were military grade devices, not the cardboard firecrackers that civilians could buy legally.

He set both on the coffee table, closer to her. "Take them. I'm going to need your help."

Sara swallowed, but she had no qualms about the fact that what she was about to do was against the law. Not for Laurel.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

But still...

"No killing, Oliver." Sara said. "Not if you can help it." That was a loophole you could drive a truck through, but in a shootout, even with arrows, no one could guarantee there'd be _no_ killing at all.

Of course, when a police officer or detective killed someone, there was a process.

Nothing like that was

"Sara," Oliver started, his tone warning, but Sara shook her head.

"Oliver, I'm going against almost everything I believe in here because I want to save my sister, and because I know that whatever else, you and Laurel are both _good_. But I cannot just **let** you kill people! I certainly can't do that myself either." Except Vanch.

Vanch could die.

Oliver nodded, "I'll do what I can." He pulled the hoot on, then took a gun out of his duffel bag. He held that out to her as well. "This one isn't registered to you."

"Is is registered to anyone?" Sara couldn't help but ask. Oliver said nothing, and Sara nodded, accepting the weapon. "Right." She could hardly go in there with her police-issued weapon. She hadn't even thought of that. "I figured you didn't like guns." Had to be a reason he'd use arrows instead.

"I don't. Guns make you sloppy." Oliver said, sounding just a little judgemental about anyone who might use them. "But they're what you know how to use. And you never know when one might be what you need. Which is why I have one."

Sara nodded. She set her own gun down, then put on the tactical vest, grabbed her holster and set the gun Oliver offered into it.

"Take these too," Oliver handed her some sort of earplugs.

"For... whatever Laurel uses?"

Oliver nodded, and held up a small circular device. "They're designed to block this." He put in a set of his own, "and not much else." Sara nodded, and put the plugs into her ears, then looked back at him.

"So what's the plan? Pretend to come alone-"

"No." Oliver interrupted, shaking his head. "Too dangerous to leave you right in there with him. Two-pronged attack. I'll make my move, make sure he knows someone's coming from the front. And then you come from the other side." Oliver fitted flechettes around his wrist, put on the Quiver, and picked up the bow.

"We'll take the fire escape down." Oliver opened her window and did just that, grabbing onto the ladder and practically _riding_ it down to the ground.

"Okay, that's just showing off," Sara muttered, following him down the slow way.

Though, it was nice to know that some things about Oliver really hadn't changed.

 **George Wolfman's House, Starling City Suburbs**

 **March 7th, 2013**

The worst part about being taken prisoner was, as far as Laurel was concerned, having to deal with Vanch's monologuing. The man loved to hear himself talk, and his girlfriend was nearly as much of a fan of it as him. Between the two of them, she could all but feel her ears bleed from the sharp, smug self-satisfaction in their words and tones.

With her hands zip-tied behind her back, Laurel had busied herself manipulating the tie, shifting it and her hands until the zip itself was between her hands, facing upwards. Now all she really needed was a few moments free to break free. Unfortunately, she hadn't had that since she'd gotten her tie arranged.

Once she was free, she could deal with Vanch, deal with his girlfriend, and then... she'd have to fight her way out, somehow. Or sneak out. Or both, most likely.

The worst part was, though, she might have to kill Vanch and his girlfriend. The thought had her feeling vaguely ill, but once she escaped and beat them both - there was too much risk of one or both of them asking too many questions, figuring it out. She couldn't risk that.

But while she waited for an opening, she was left wondering what would happen. Sara wouldn't do the smart thing and leave her. She didn't know Laurel could escape. She might reach out to the police anyway, knowing she wasn't going to be able to take Vanch and his men out himself.

Sara arriving would give her an opening, but the idea of her sister basically being just a distraction, of using her like that, risking her -

But the cat would have to be out of the bag no matter what, with her sister.

 _You were planning on telling her eventually. Now... now works as well as anything else._

What she hoped, though, was that Sara would tell Oliver. She wouldn't know she was telling someone capable of everything Oliver was capable of, but she did know her sister. Her sister would think Ollie deserved to know. And once he knew, he would come for her. Even if it was too many people. He wouldn't be an idiot about it, but he'd make sure to be here by sunrise.

Laurel looked at the clock. He had plenty of time.

Vanch, being Vanch, misunderstood her glancing as one of worry. He grinned another shit-eating grin.

"Maybe I misjudged your sister. Maybe she wouldn't mind you being dead. Sibling rivalry? Mommy and daddy couldn't love you two equally?" Laurel resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "She's got about six hours, true, but still. You'd think she'd have run here immediately to save her beloved sister."

"I used to want to be a lawyer," Laurel said, as if she hadn't heard his words. Not that 'used' was the right word. She still wanted to be one. "Shipwrecked got in the way, but I do know enough to know all the laws you're breaking. Kidnapping, Assault with Intent... I know the police just _love_ an attempted cop killer."

Vanch chuckled, then moved quickly to her, slamming her head down on the table. Pain flashed in her skull, but the motion jostled her enough that she could make an attempt on the zip ties in the process. The hard plastic dug into her wrists, breaking skin a little as she tried to force it apart.

No dice. It strained and stretched. Another one would be enough, but for the moment, her head swam as Vanch pulled her head back up by the hair.

"Someone's unusually confident for a girl held hostage. And someone's very sure her sister is going to get out of this alive."

"Sara can handle you. She's got a lot of experience with desperate loser little boys like you," Laurel spat. She'd certainly had to deal with such boys in High School and College. Sara had been much more interested in partying, in... fun, before Laurel had gone on the Gambit. She'd had her fair share of boyfriends and even one-night stands. Though that last part was one she'd kept quiet from their parents.

Some had been clingy, or grabby, and even men she'd never pursued had sometimes tried to treat her like she was something they could take.

Before the gambit, during her less charitable moments towards her sister, Laurel was ashamed to admit the word 'slut' had crossed her mind in regards to her sister, though she'd never gone so far as to say it to her face.

She'd implied it a few times, in an argument or two, though.

After her experience with Ivo, the idea of ever saying anything like that to anyone, but especially her sister, was nearly as sickening as the idea of killing someone.

"Ouch," Vanch said, mock hurt. He put his hand to his heart to continue the charade, stepping back, pulling out a knife and playing with it. "You don't have to be alive when your sister gets here, you know. I'd be more careful."

The sound of guns firing outside, then a cry of pain drew Vanch and his girlfriend's attention, and Laurel used the opening once more, getting her hands free, breaking the tie. Now free, she kept her hands in place, watching for the perfect opening.

More bullets, more pain. An explosion - a flashbang, or one of Oliver's flashbang arrows.

"It's the Hood!" Someone shouted over the radio handset Vanch had set on the table. Vanch smirked.

"Well, not what I expected, but it'll do. I guess your sister has a few extracurricular friends." Vanch spoke into the radio. "Just like we planned - a bit early though. Take him down, boys."

Laurel laughed, "Really? You think you can take out the Hood?"

"The Hood and his screaming girlfriend, if she decides to show up." _She already has._ Laurel shifted position on the chair a little. Her wrists were cut in several places, thankfully away from any major arteries, and they stung, but Laurel barely felt the pain, even though she knew it was there.

"You don't have a chance. You and your collection of rent-a-thugs are nothing," Laurel grinned. Vanch grabbed her hair again, holding a knife to her throat. Laurel bit her lip, watching him monologue, shifting a bit more. _Almost._

"Really? You think he can get by all the sons of bitches I've got waiting for him. The veritable army, every one of them with guns that fire up to six hundred rounds a minute? The sharpshooters on the roof?" Another explosion. The sounds of shooting were nearly constant outside, but it kept going, and no one was reporting the Hood beaten.

"And the fact that he's only got 24 arrows in his quiver and flechettes at his wrist. And I have more than that."

There was a piercing high-pitched sound outside that had Laurel wince a little, and she heard glass break somewhere in the house. Laurel smirked, knowing that would take out more than few of Vanch's men, but the man just laughed.

"And there's the fact that I gave all my men earplugs. The expensive kind. That girlfriend of his might be loud, and it might hurt still, but they'll be able to keep fighting." Vanch pressed the knife tighter. "I suppose I should kill you know. Your sister was supposed to come alone."

"I died once," Laurel said. Well, legally dead, anyway. "Didn't take." She grabbed at his wrist, twisted his hand away from her throat and forced the knife from his hand, jumping to her feet and wrenching Vanch away from her, sending him stumbling back into the wall.

His Girlfriend pulled a gun - a pistol -, started shooting, but Laurel went down, ducking under the shots and grabbing the knife from where it had fallen on the floor. She stayed low, ran at Vanch and then came at him with the knife, too close for the girlfriend or the goon that ran into the room at the sound of the shooting to be able to take aim at her for risk of hitting Vanch.

"I take it back. I'd much rather you be as helpless as you were supposed to," Vanch quipped, ducking under her stab. Laurel's head still throbbed from having it hit on the table, and she knew she was off her game, and she was deliberately pulling her attacks, as much as she could. But she couldn't let this fight be prolonged. She grabbed Vanch by the front of his shirt, pressed him against the wall and pressed the knife to his throat.

"Call off your man, and your girlfriend." Laurel snarled. "Or I slice your carotid artery right open."

"You can't get out," Vanch said confidently, even as he nodded to his girlfriend and goon to lower their weapons. "My men will stop you."

"What men?" Sara's voice said from the back of the room. Two shots went off, and two screams of pain, as Vanch's girlfriend and his goon both fell to the ground, one clutching at his shoulder, the other her thigh. "Hood and I have taken them just about all of them out-"

The door on the other side of the room broke, and another of Vanch's goons flew through the air slightly, landing on the ground and sliding into a wall, banging his head against the baseboard.

"Correction, we've taken all of them out. Though he did the lion's share, I'll admit." Sara corrected.

"Detective. I never knew you were friends with the Hood," Vanch said, unfazed by the knife at his throat, apparently.

"She's not. When I found out you'd taken her sister, I dropped in and told her where you were," Oliver said with the voice modulator. "Detective, I suppose now would be the time to arrest him."

"Good plan." Sara said, pulling cuffs off her belt and approaching. "Laurel, step back."

Laurel pressed the knife against his neck, breathing heavily. "I should kill you right now. Right where you stand."

"You don't have it in you."

"You have _no idea_ what I have in me," Laurel said in a low growl. He'd threatened her sister, and almost every instinct in her screamed at her to kill him, screamed at her to press the knife just a little harder, cut his throat, leave him dead by the time Sara or anyone else could get emergency responders here.

Kill him for what he did, kill him so he couldn't try again.

 _Nobody threatens my family!_

"Laurel!" Sara said again. "Let me take him in. I promise, he won't be getting out of prison this time. Not after this 'genius' killed the lawyer that got him out the first time."

Inhaling a shuddering breath, Laurel stepped back. Vanch smirked, and Laurel punched him in the face, wiping that smug expression off, at least.

Sara grabbed him as he reeled from the punch and pulled his hands behind his back, snapping the cuffs over them. "Cyvus Vanch, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney," Sara smirked as she snapped the second cuff closed and pulled him up to stand up straight. "Though, she added I can't imagine finding one that will take your case after word gets out what you did to your last one. So you'll have one appointed to you by the courts, probably."

"Just keep it up, Detective. If you think this is enough to stop me-"

"I _said_ you have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it." Sara interrupted. One hand holding a gun to Vanch's back, Sara pulled out her cell phone, dialing her father at the precinct. "You might want to get out of here," she nodded to the Hood. Then she pressed call.

 **The Foundry**

 **March 8th, 2013**

It was past midnight by the time Laurel and Sara were allowed to leave - Sara had had to hand in her gun - her actual registered police-issued gun - while they investigated this. Vanch had clammed up, refusing to talk, even about the discrepancies in Sara's story, btu that hadn't surprised Oliver once he heard. A man like Vanch wanted his own revenge. If he ever got out, he'd have it.

It would have been easier to just kill him, but Sara, for all that she wanted him dead, had vetoed the idea when she asked him - told him - not to kill anyone.

So far, the cover story seemed to be holding, as far as Oliver could tell. Only time would tell for sure, of course, but Sara hadn't been arrested or even formally disciplined.

"So..." Sara had said when they left the precienct. "Where can we have that conversation we need to have?"

The answer, of course, was the Foundry. Oliver had called Diggle, still waiting at the base, to warn him they were coming with Sara, so he wouldn't be surprised. Sara came with them, riding in Oliver's car with him and Laurel, and now they were here.

"So..." Sara said, looking around at the arrows, at Laurel's outfit, at the arrows, at the various training equipment. "This is the secret lair, then?"

"It's our base of operations, yes," Laurel said. "We try not to sleep here, if we can help it, though there are cots in the back. But you don't really care about that, do you?"

"No," Sara shook her head, then turned back to them. "How?"

"How what?" Oliver asked.

"How _everything?!_ " Sara threw her hands up as she raised her voice. "Five and a half years ago, you two were... normal. As normal as the son of a billionaire and the woman dating him can be, anyway. And now... now one of you is a murderer and-"

"We're both murderers, Sara," Laurel interrupted softly. Oliver inhaled sharply, putting a hand on her back gently. "The Black Canary may not be a murder, but Tayir 'Aswad certainly was."

"Who?" Sara demanded, face screwed up in confusion, shaking her head. "I should be arresting both of you - I shouldn't even be here-"

"Why haven't you tried, now that Laurel's safe?" Oliver asked.

"Because how in the hell am I supposed to do that? How can I arrest Laurel, how can I arrest _you_ , Ollie? How can -" Sara cut herself off, inhaling a ragged breath. "Answers. I need answers."

"Answers are Oliver and Laurel's least favorite thing," Diggle commented. Oliver inhaled and glared at him, but his 'bodyguard' met the gaze impassively.

"There's a lot that happened over five years we were gone, Sara," Laurel said carefully.

"Obviously. You became friends with a wanted assassin in there at some point," Sara replied. Laurel blinked.

"You looked Nyssa up?"

"I tried to. Something seemed off about the way you warned me off of her... I got government spooks crawling up my ass just for knowing the name, but they let me know she was a wanted terrorist and assassin."

"Terrorist?" Laurel raised an eyebrow, but Oliver had to admit he shared her confusion. The League was many things, but hardly terrorists. They weren't averse to killing large numbers of people if they had to, but it was never the point, the way it was with terrorists.

 _Though I suppose it makes sense the government might label them terrorists anyway..._

"Nyssa... she saved my life. God," Laurel shook her head. "There's too much to explain at once, Sara. So much. I was planning on telling,once I knew I-" she took a breath. "Nyssa is a member of an organization called the League of Assassins. Three and a half years ago, Oliver and I got separated, both of us swept away on the water after the ship we tried to use to escape exploded."

Something of an over summarization, but true.

"Nyssa is the one who found me. I thought Oliver was dead. And... even before then, I'd... I'd done things, Sara. Staying alive -" she hesitated. "She brought me into the League. Trained me."

"And you became an Assassin."

"Something of a misnomer. The league doesn't kill for hire. They're... they were the First Vigilantes, for all intents and purposes," Laurel explained. "I killed, Sara. Dozens of people. Hundreds. I- I didn't keep track. Most of them - maybe even all of them deserved it. People too powerful or connected to be brought to justice the right way, or too dangerous. I don't know."

Oliver moved his hand to Laurel's shoulder, squeezing it gently as Laurel went on.

"But even if they all deserved it - every death, every one... I couldn't take it. If I hadn't found Oliver again, found out he was alive..." she shook her head, "I'm not sure I would have been able to..." she closed her eyes and trailed off.

"Are you saying-" Sara started, then she pulled her sister in for a tight hug. Oliver pulled his hand back while they hugged. When it was done, Sara pulled back from the hug. "I have... every question in the world. And I can tell neither of you want to answer them all, not now." She chuckled hollowly, "I suppose I can... at least begin to guess why. And... I don't even know what to think about this... God..." she shook her head. "I've been driving myself insane about this for months, this - this theory that you two are the vigilantes, telling myself I had to be crazy."

Laurel started to say something, but Sara interrupted her.

"But I know this, Laurel. You're my sister. You're the best person I've ever known. All you've ever wanted to do with your life is help people. And that's all you've done since you came back, even as the Banshee, or Black Canary or whatever it is you want to be called in that costume. You're my sister, Laurel. And I love you. That's never going to change." Her voice broke a little at the end, and then Laurel hugged her again, tight.

When she pulled back from this one again, Sara looked to Oliver.

"I won't say I'm okay with you killing people, Oliver. I'm not. But the Hood... I always knew it wasn't like he was just slaughtering everyone. You're careful. You kill in battle, or people who deserve it. And you've given people a chance to make things right before you do it. And I know you - not as well as Laurel, but I know you. You're a good person too." She laughed, not quite as hollowly this time. "If she didn't think you were, Laurel wouldn't still be dating you."

"No," Oliver nodded, "She wouldn't." Not that it meant he really deserved her, but Laurel seemed to think he was still good. Something he was never sure about himself, really.

"I want - I need answers. As many as you're willing to give. About... how this happened, and what you're doing in the here and now. I need to understand." Sara said softly, almost plaintive. "Please."

And so...

And so they explained. Some things, anyway.

There was more neither he nor Laurel wanted to share with anyone but each other, some things too close to touch, even with Sara. At least not yet.

But still -

They explained. Sara - and Diggle - learned about the first year for both of them, about Ivo and Fyers and about Slade - well, mostly. Some things they didn't talk about. Oliver explained that he'd been found by Waller, drafted by ARGUS against his will. Laurel spoke about the League.

And they told her about the List, the Dark Archer, and the mission Ra's Al Ghul had set on them, to find a kill the traitor to the league, on pain of death.


	20. Can You Handle The Truth?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow. Look at Arrow Season 8. Now Look at my fic. Back to Season 8. Now back to my fic. Do I look like I own Arrow?

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 20: Can You Handle The Truth?

 _Ignorance, they say is bliss._

 _Of course, as anyone who has been endangered by not knowing the mess they're inadvertently in can tell you, that's only true after your ignorance has been stripped away. Ignorance may not be bliss, but the lack of ignorance can be so much worse._

 _The unfinished memoirs of Dinah Laurel Lance, the first Black Canary, don't say much about what she thought were Sara Lance's inner thoughts, upon finding out the truth she'd already been suspecting - that her sister was the Black Canary, that Oliver Queen was the Hood. That two of the people she was close to were criminals, vigilantes, that they stood, arguably, against everything the law and justice she'd dedicated herself to these last few years represented. Sara Lance didn't start keeping a journal until years later, and she never really addressed this question either._

 _It's impossible, then, to be sure how she reacted. Some information can be gleaned from other sources, or from stories told around the table at extended Queen and Lance family reunions, but of course those are of dubious accuracy, and dubious merit. Still, an important part of history is not just what happened - but how people_ _ **remember**_ _what happened._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **The Foundry**

 **March 8th, 2013**

The bombardment of revelations - even abridged and glazed over as they no doubt were - her sister and Oliver gave Sara was staggering.

The island hadn't been deserted. Okay, that much she'd gathered from Oliver saying he'd been tortured there. But finding out those people been mercenaries, hired first by China to kill 'dangerous' prisoners and then hired by someone else to shoot down a passenger jet and threaten economic devastation as the resulting chaos destroyed stock markets the world over...

Well, it sounded too absurd to be real, but she couldn't doubt Oliver was telling the truth. A liar he could be, even a skilled one, but there was no lie, no hint of untruth here, no indication Oliver wasn't being anything but honest. There was more to say about the man named Slade, Sara could tell.

There was something... tinged about the way Oliver talked about Slade. The two men had grown close in their time together, but equally, something had happened to break them apart, she surmised. Even if, in the end, Slade died trying to aid their escape aboard the _Amazo_.

And of course...

The _Amazo_.

Laurel didn't say it in so many words - she didn't need to. She'd stayed alive because Dr. Ivo had found a use for her, and Laurel had had no choice but to accept it, to put up with it, to live with it.

It was a good thing Dr. Ivo was dead, because the murderous fury that ripped through her when Laurel implied what the bastard had done to her, what that monster had done to Sara's sister, what he'd put Laurel through...

She could tell how close Laurel was to cracking at the memories, at reliving them like this. Not breaking - Laurel was stronger than that, stronger than Sara wondered if she could be in the same situation - but still, cracking, her voice weakening a bit, Oliver holding closer, Laurel's expression closing off a little, eyes closing several times, blinking what might even have been the start of tears.

"You don't-" Sara had started, not wanting to force her to finish her story, not if she needed a moment, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw John Diggle look away, as if feeling like he was intruding on a private moment - which he was, in a way, though if he was part of this little vigilante gang Oliver and Laurel had, he deserved to know some things to.

"You don't need to-" Sara started again after taking a breath, but Laurel held up a hand.

"No. No, I do. God, I do. I need to tell you, Sara. I need you to understand what happened, why I did the things I did, why I've become who-"

"Laurel," Sara cut her sister off this time. "You didn't 'become' anything else. You're still the older sister I looked up to, always. You still believe in justice... even if you define it differently than you used to. God, Laurel, just look at what you've done for the Glades. Cops still don't go there alone, if they have a choice, but have you read the news? People are actually willing to go outside when they don't have to, some nights. In groups too, but still. Murders in the Glades are down by a third, muggings even more!"

Granted, some of that was just because the would be muggers were all still recovering from broken legs and broken arms, and all too many of them would return to old habits after they recovered, but still.

"Laurel," Sara murmured, taking her sister's hand in hers for a moment. "You've always wanted to help people, wanted to help the people that had no other options, that all too much of the system left behind. First you wanted to be a cop, and when Dad vetoed that, you went to be a lawyer. You wanted to be a DA, taking the cases no one else would, giving the victims voices."

"Wait, you actually paid attention, when I talked about that?" Laurel asked, almost smiling a little.

"Of course, Laurel," Sara smiled now, fondly remembering her half-exasperated air. God forbid her older sister ever find out that her younger sister actually paid attention, and looked up to and admired her. That had been how her teenage self had responded, anyway. "But it's not cool for younger sisters to idolize their older sisters." She chuckled ruefully.

"Idolize?"

"Well, maybe not _that_ much. You still annoyed me a lot of the time too," Sara said, still smiling and poking her sister lightly in the shoulder. Then she inhaled, let it out. "But whatever else, you were still my big sister. You looked out for me at Balloi Prep, you helped me with my homework, you didn't rat me out to mom and dad when I came home late. Most of the time." She shook her head.

"I love you, Laurel. Losing you felt like hell. That's why I became a cop - your dedication to justice, I wanted to feel closer to you." And now, of course, her sister bent the rules of that justice into a pretzel. And yet, Laurel was still the same person to believed in justice.

She just believed in an older, more primal form of it.

"My point, Laurel," Sara went on, earnestly, "Is that you're still, ultimately, the same person you always were. You don't need to tell me everything that happened for me to believe that, for me to understand." She hugged Laurel tight before pulling back. "I _want_ to know. I have questions I haven't even thought of, god knows. But there's nothing _you_ have to tell me."

Laurel's eyes were definitely wet now, and she blinked back tears a moment. "Thanks, Sar-bear," she murmured, her voice sounding a little choked up, and then she nodded, taking a breath.

The story went on from there - again, so obviously breezing over a lot, but still, the essential high notes. Oliver getting drafted by a woman named Amanda Waller - the head of ARGUS. The very same agency that had crawled up Sara's ass about knowing Nyssa's name.

"She just... forced you to work for her? Or die?"

"And worse," Oliver nodded.

"The head of a United States Intelligence Agency just went and - fucking hell, now I get why people are scared of the NSA spying on them." Sara added that last bit in a mutter. Sara wasn't naive, but she'd always preferred to lean on the side of thinking the best of the government - most people working in it, she'd found, either had good intentions, or were just trying to do a difficult job the best they could, nothing malevolent in mind. Dirty cops, corrupt city officials - they existed, but even then, it wasn't usually so simple as 'bad person is bad just because'.

But this Waller woman... Oliver's brief descriptor of her, and of what had happened in Hong Kong made her out to be a monster. Maybe one doing something resembling good things for the country, maybe, but even then. _Christ, is that where my tax dollars are going?_

"For a woman like Waller, 'legal' doesn't really enter into it," Oliver commented. "It's not like I can sue her for violating..." he looked to Laurel, "what rights did she even violate?"

"Various 4th Amendment rights, to start with." Laurel shook her head. "We don't have long enough for me to enumerate every law and treaty she broken with what she pulled in Hong Kong."

"That bad?" Sara laughed hollowly. "Glad I decided to be stubborn and obstinate with that Agent Michaels when she demanded I tell her where I heard Nyssa's name." 'Glad' meaning the exact opposite of that.

"Michaels?" Diggle spoke up for the first time the conversation had begun. "Lyla Michaels?" There was an odd way he mentioned the name, with a mix of positive and negative feelings in the tone of voice he used.

Sara nodded, turning to him. "Yeah." She searched the expression on his face, though he was doing a pretty good job of keeping it neutral. "Ex girlfriend?"

"Ex wife." Diggle said, and Sara shook her head.

"Small world." Sara mused. Diggle seemed reticent to elaborate, and she didn't feel like pushing - hardly that important. She doubted ARGUS was likely to force the issue with her over that one bit of stubbornness, since she didn't know anything, but admittedly, her confidence was shaken a bit on that front by the revelations about what had happened in Hong Kong.

"So... while you were in Hong Kong, you were being drafted into this League."

"Nyssa found me - I was barely alive, floating on a piece of the ship..." she shook her head, a faraway look in her eye for a moment. "She found me, nursed me back to health... and told me that because she's saved my life, it was the League's now. And..." Laurel let out a long breath. "I didn't have any idea what I was agreeing to, but I didn't want to die, and... I didn't have anything else. So I said yes. I was taken to the League's fortress... brought before Ra's al Ghul. The Demon's Head."

"The Demon's Head?" Sara couldn't help but laugh. "Who calls themselves that?"

"Ra's al Ghul is no laughing matter, Sara," Laurel said with urgency. "He's a monster, and the most capable combatant I've ever met. He could defeat Oliver and me in a matter of minutes, with sword or bow, or any other weapon you could name. He's lived for hundreds of years, and has all that experience to draw on. He is ruthless, evil and utterly dedicated to his vision of the League."

"Hundreds of years?" Sara demanded. "Okay, no, no, that's bullshit. How the hell do you even know that? Everyone's probably lying. It's one of those Dread Pirate Robert's situations, in it it? Different guy behind the mask each time?" No. People didn't live hundreds of years. Santa wasn't real, that was just Dad in a suit with a beard. And there was no monster under the bed - but there were plenty of monsters out there in the streets of any major city in the United States. Or anywhere else in the world. Murderers, rapists, muggers, serial killers...

The world didn't need immortal monsters too. The world didn't _have_ immortal monsters.

"The title is passed from each Ra's to the next, but the man that is Ra's now has held that title since the early 1800s," Laurel told her, sounding entirely genuine. "At least." She spoke with an almost fearful urgency, not quite whispering, but with a slight edge to her voice reminiscent of a hushed whisper.

"Laurel, that's impossible! How is he supposed to have been alive that long?" Sara scoffed, "What, is he like a Vampire or something? Did he make Horcruxes?" Laurel had caught up on the Harry Potter she'd missed while away, so Sara figured she'd know the reference. Oliver on the other hand, just sort of looked blankly at her.

"Horcruxes?"

"It's from Harry Potter," Laurel said, "evil way of extending your life with magic. And... Ra's al Ghul does have a way of extending his life with... well, all I can call it is magic." She shook her head a little, as if she still couldn't believe that. "The waters of the Lazarus Pit - they heal all injuries, and extend the life of those who bathe in it. It is the right of every Ra's al Ghul to use it and control its use."

Sara looked at Laurel, searching for any sign of a joke, even if this wasn't the time or place. She looked to Oliver, who seemed just as deadly serious, showing no sign he disagreed with her use of the word magic. Or about this... Lazarus Pit.

"Lazarus Pit..." Sara scoffed weakly, trying to dismiss it. This couldn't be real, right?

 _Laurel's hardly gullible._ She'd have to have good reason to believe it...

"What, are you going to tell me it brings back to the dead, too?" She demanded, and then looked at Laurel - who just raised an eyebrow. "Wait, it does?"

"I never saw it do that, but supposedly, yes." Laurel nodded. "At great cost to the soul of the one so raised. But I have seen it cure injuries that should have killed people," she finished, voice quiet.

"I - I can't -" Sara shook her head, then closed her eyes and inhaled. "So... is it just the Lazarus Pit, or should I be worrying about magic and vampires and gremlins and-"

"Magic... or something like it exists," Oliver said, "I've seen it." Sara heard Diggle make a skeptical sound behind them, but it was quiet, the man still trying to avoid interrupting.

"It exists. But it's rare. And... well, I suppose I can't say for certain that vampires and gremlins or even unicorns don't exist, but even when Nyssa told me things about magic, about the ways the League counters it, she didn't tell me anything about those sorts of things." Laurel added, and Sara just stared at them.

"You're talking about magic as if... magic exists, apparently, and you're talking about it casually, like it's... just another one of your arrows?!" she demanded, looking at Oliver. "And while we're at it, you're masked vigilantes! I mean, there was that one guy in the Glades a few years ago, but those are supposed to be for comic books! And there's a thing called a Lazarus Pit that brings back the dead?!" Sara started laughing, unable to stop herself as the sheer, almost horrifying absurdity of her reality dawned on her.

"My life has become a fucking comic book, hasn't it?" She looked from Laurel to Oliver, then she closed her eyes and dropped her head, flushing in embarrassment and shame as she realized how trivialized she'd just made the things they'd gone through the last five years. "Sorry - I..." she shook her head. "This is serious, I know. I shouldn't..." she shook her head.

"So... he's dangerous. Powerful. And has a whole lot of assassins at his command." Sara summarized.

"He's a monster. As evil as the worst serial killers, if not more," Laurel said firmly. "And the way he treats Nyssa..." Sara watched her sister literally shake with supressed rage. She didn't have the words to express how she felt about this, clearly.

"So you were close with her?"

"Are close, still. I love her like another sister, Sara." Ay those words from Laurel, Sara felt a momentary surge of weird... jealousy? An almost instinctual reaction, as if somehow Laurel loving Nyssa like a sister somehow replaced her.

Which was so many different kinds of stupid.

"Nyssa spent her whole life in the League, and with Ra's as her father, she never had anything that could remotely be called a normal childhood." Laurel explained. "I'm the only friend she's ever had - because I didn't 'know better' than to try to become her friend while she trained me." She had that distant look on her face again for a moment. "Which is what made it even worse when Ra's sent her here to kill me."

Sara blinked. Cleared her throat. "Say that again? This... Nyssa came here to _kill_ you?" _And you're just getting to this_ _ **now!?**_ Sara managed to stop herself from actually asking that second question aloud though. It wasn't like there hadn't been a ton of other things that had had to be explained.

"Ra's Al Ghul sent her here to kill me, or return me to the League. There's only two ways out of the League - be released from your oath by Ra's Al Ghul-"

"Or death," Sara finished, the last two words beyond obvious. "And you wouldn't go back." Her words barely felt like her own voice, toneless and without inflection, but she felt... furious. _If that bastard even_ _ **tries**_ _..._

She couldn't even articulate what she envisioned doing to this man if he tried to hurt her sister anymore than he and his League already had. Illegal and immoral, even if satisfying in a very biblical 'eye for an eye' sort of way, at the very least. _Goddamnit Sara! One vigilante in the family is enough!_ She was a cop! She shouldn't be thinking like this - she got close with Vanch, and now this. She couldn't take justice into her own hands.

 _Well, who has the jurisdiction over this guy anyway? Who could stop him?_

Not the point. Sara doubted she'd even be able to kill him, even if she was stupid enough to go on some mad suicidal crusade all by herself.

"Or death," Laurel nodded. "Returning would have killed me all the same. I... I didn't really have a plan, when I left the League." She looked to Oliver and took his hand in hers. "I realized Oliver was still alive, faked my death, and we returned to Lian Yu, to arrange our 'rescue'."

"But then you came back from the dead... twice over," Sara observed.

"I... I assumed that my return would be too public. Or something. I don't know." Laurel shook her head. "Nyssa didn't want to force the issue... but the League's all she knows. She's not happy that I left the League, left her, without even a goodbye either."

 _Well, losing a sister sucks._ And if Laurel was Nyssa's only friend too... Sara couldn't even imagine how that would feel.

"But we got lucky." Oliver finally spoke again. "Laurel was able to strike a deal with Ra's Al Ghul. Get a stay of execution. Which is at the heart of everything." Sara watched Oliver pick up a small notebook, the size of her hand, and he handed it to her. Sara opened it, anc found page after page of names. Some names she recognized - major suspected criminals in the city, leading lights... and manys had been targeted by the Hood. Those ones were crossed off, even the ones who had gotten away from their meetings with the archer alive.

"What is this? Your hitlist?" She didn't know what to say about it, and Oliver killing people, even people who morally deserved it, was not something she'd accepted, like the rest. But she... she had to take it. Oliver and her sister were a package deal - she could hardly turn him in, or on him, without ultimately the doing the same with her sister. They'd been close before, but now they were basically one soul in two bodies, and all the other cliches.

 _Oliver and Laurel, always and forever._ Her childish crush of years ago was long gone, but it was even more obvious now how stupid it had been.

"Not exactly. But close," Oliver answered. "Remember the Dark Archer, from Christmas?"

"The copycat? Yeah."

"He's former League," Laurel explained quietly. "Gone freelance. He works for the man who wrote that list. A list of some of the wealthiest and most connected criminals in Starling City. The people who could hide their crimes, or at least their guilt. Nyssa arrived right after we fight the Dark Archer."

 _Christmas._

"Oliver's accident." Sara said softly, wondering how she hadn't made that connection before, even when suspecting Oliver was the Hood.

"I froze at the wrong moment, afraid the League had sent him. Or something." Laurel said, voice full of guilt.

"Laurel," Oliver started, but Laurel held up her hand.

"Oliver, no. I froze, and you nearly died. I'm not beating myself up over it anymore, but it is the truth." She looked to him. "You're already blaming yourself for so many other things that aren't your fault. Don't blame yourself for this." Now _Sara_ felt like she was intruding on a private moment between these two, and she just waited while the two met each other's eyes for a few seconds, then they looked away.

"But yes. That's what really happened that night. The Dark Archer got away. But since he's gone freelance, he's violated the ideals of the League - I still fight evil men. He serves them." Laurel explained.

"And that's the deal you made - bring the Dark Archer to justice, you get to stay free?" Sara asked. "Well, I say 'justice' but..." she trailed off.

"We have to kill him," Laurel confirmed. "If it comes to it, I will -" her breath caught, then she let out a long exhale. "I will." she repeated.

"Only if you have to." Oliver told her. "I can make the final blow."

"Well, to worry about that, we need to draw him out, and we haven't been able to do that again yet," Laurel pointed out. "And we're running out of time."

"How much time do you have left?" Sara asked. She forced all the other questions she had, all the other things she had to process aside. Sara knew she was going to have some sort of mental breakdown when she got back home after this, but right now, she had to stay on topic. Her sister had a death sentence hanging over her, and Sara would do what she could to help.

"Three months." Oliver answered. "Or to find out who wrote the list and get the Dark Archer that way."

"Which begs the question - how do you have it? What is it?" Sara looked over at Oliver.

"My father had it on his body, when I buried him." Oliver said softly. He'd already explained that Robert Queen had made it to the life raft in reality, unlike the version of events he'd told the court when he was brought back from the dead. But that his father had shot himself, to give Oliver the best chance to survive. "I thought it was his list - his last words were asking me to make up for his mistakes, the ways he failed this city... but..." he trailed off, cleared his throat.

"The Dark Archer told us the man who wrote the list wanted the Hood dead." Oliver finished.

"And your father had a copy."

"And my mother," Oliver said gravely. And then he explained recent events - Walter Steele had apparently found a copy of the list at Queen Mansion, shortly before disappearing, given it to one of the employees at Queen Consolidated, named Felicity, to look into. How his mother had thrown the list into the fire...

And how the Queen's Gambit was sabotaged. Presumably by the man behind the List. For the first time, Sara could really see how close to the edge Oliver was now, with the recent revelations.

"Not an accident?" Sara shook her head in wonder. "God..." A horrible thought came to her mind. "Do you think your mother-?"

"I don't know what to think," Oliver admitted. "There's only one way to find out."

"Wait, you're really going to talk to her as the Hood?" Diggle asked.

"How else can I be sure I'm going to get the truth?" Oliver pointed out. "We don't have time - if we don't kill the Dark Archer in three months, the League will come back."

"Nyssa might still be able to return with more information about the identity of the Dark Archer, or at least help us narrow it down more. She saw him."

"Decades ago. And that's even if Ra's lets her come back to help us. He knows who the man is, and won't tell us. It's a game to him." Oliver chot back to Laurel.

 _Even more reason to hate the bastard._ From what little she was being told about 'The Demon's Head', it seemed like the man got off on making people suffer, on making people dance to his tune just because he could.

"You don't have to be the one to -" Laurel started, trying to help, but Oliver shook his head.

"No. It has to be me - the Black Canary doesn't kill people, and she doesn't go after the one percenters. That's the Hood. The threat has to feel genuine." Oliver pointed out, and Laurel's expression fell, as she realized he was right.

"When?" Diggle asked Oliver.

"Tomorrow night." He answered.

"I'm going to be there," Laurel said firmly, not brooking debate. "If you need backup." Oliver nodded.

"Whatever you find out, you should tell me." Sara pointed out. The others turned back to her, and Sara chuckled hollowly, "You forget - I'm a detective. Unless your mother tells you everything tomorrow night, you're going to need someone to help put the pieces together. I'd start now, but right now, my head feels like it's going to blow up if I try to think any more."

"You're taking this better than I was worried you might," Laurel admitted.

"Ask me again in a few days." Sara admitted. "I don't think it's all really registering. But whatever else - you can be sure I'm not going to turn you in, if you were ever worried about that. Or tell Dad."

"I can't imagine what his reaction to this would be."

"Worse," Sara said with certainty. "He wouldn't turn you in either, but it would eat him up even more." Her father held to 'the book' more than she did. Sara understood why the rules existed, the limits on what cops could do, but she chafed at them a lot more than her father ever had, and certainly more than he did now.

Sara took a deep breath. "I need to go home. Think about this." She laughed, "You know where to find me. And you both have my number."

"Sara-" Laurel started, then she trailed off, as if not sure what else to say.

"Laurel. Please. Whatever else, that you're my sister and I love you - that won't ever change," Sara said, tone urgent. She needed to make sure Laurel understood that - needed Laurel to get that that really wasn't going to change. "I need you to understand that." She pulled her sister in for one last hug, squeezing her tight for a long moment before pulling back.

"Love you too," Laurel said, eyes damp again.

Sara pulled back. "Goodnight," She told them both, then nodded to Diggle before she left.

 **Sara Lance's Apartment**

 **March 8th, 2013**

 _What am I supposed to think?_

Her sister was a murderer - forced into some weird assassin cult, with a death sentence over her head. Her sister, the girl who had been so dedicated to justice, to helping people. The whole _reason_ Sara had become a cop was because she wanted to honor Laurel's memory. And to be closer to her dad, once the divorce happened and he ran into his job as a way to stay out of the bottle.

At least she wasn't killing anymore.

But Oliver was.

 _Oliver._ Oliver Jonas Queen, party-boy dilettante extraordinaire. The guy who got arrested for _peeing on a cop_ for God's sake!

 **He** was a murderer. The Hood was a killer - not an assassin, no. He gave people a chance - he gave people back the money stolen from them, he didn't kill if he didn't have to, but he killed.

They were vigilantes - without oversight, without limits, rules, restrictions. It was seductive, in it's appeal. So many people had gotten away with crimes, people Sara had investigated, because they had the right connections, because they could hide the evidence too well, scare or kill the witnesses, hire the best lawyers. Sara could think of a dozen men she'd like to put in the Hood's bow-sights, or at least have the Black Canary put in the hospital.

But there was a reason the rules were there. Imperfect though they could be, especially in certain kinds of cases, as imperfect as the police were, as imperfect as the criminal justice system was, it was a process. A system. It had checks, it had the possibility for self-correction. There was a reason death row took so damn long. There was a reason the burden of evidence was 'beyond all reasonable doubt', in criminal trials.

She knew Laurel. She knew Oliver. Whatever else had changed, whatever they'd been through, the two of them were still good people. Even if they seemed to doubt that about themselves.

But even with good intentions, you could make mistakes. Sara had arrested the wrong person once, and believed strongly that others were guilty, but have been held back because she didn't have actionable evidence. And it had turned out that she'd been wrong. Because there were limits.

 _But there are no limits on them. No restrictions._ And if either Oliver or Laurel were ever wrong... at a minimum they were hospitalizing innocent people. At worst...

But the cops could be wrong. Even people who went through the prolonged process of death row, even people who were executed, could be found innocent. Laurel and Oliver had saved Peter Declan's life.

Sara sat down on her couch, trying to meditate, or at least make the effort. She'd taken a yoga class once, back while she'd been in college, and she tried to think back on that, tried to calm her thoughts, clear her mind.

It failed, and it was all she could do to stop herself from hyperventilating.

Her sister was a killer. Her sister's boyfriend, was a killer.

And they were asking her to be okay with it.

But she had no other choice, did she? She wouldn't turn them in. Couldn't. Not unless they... went crazy. Started killing innocent people, knowingly, or... in large numbers, or... _something._ But she couldn't imagine either one of them doing that.

 _I could just... pretend they didn't tell me? Right?_

She didn't have to help them. She didn't have to let them tell her what they were doing. Make her more complicit than she already was. Because she was. Complicit in everything they'd done, now. As a cop, she was supposed to arrest people who broke the law, she was supposed to turn people in. If the oath she'd taken when she became a cop meant _anything_ to her, she should be turning them in.

And if she didn't turn them in, did she have any right to just... pretend it wasn't happening? Pretend she didn't know? Did she really have the right to salve her conscience, if she even could, by just... not being involved?

Didn't she have an obligation to be part of the process? Help them _make sure_ they didn't go after innocent people? Didn't she have a responsibility to be involved?

Besides, could she really stand by and do nothing while her sister had a death sentence hanging over her head?

And it was that last fact that really, as she sat there, eliminated any other options, even as they kept spinning around in her brain. She wouldn't lose Laurel again - not so soon after she'd come back from the dead. She couldn't let that happen to her father either. Or her mother, absentee though she was.

Sara's head throbbed, and she pressed her hands to her temples, rubbing, as if that would do anything.

She had no answers, and yet, there was only one acceptable answer.

She had to help them. She had to help Laurel, help Oliver. Help them find this Dark Archer, help them fight crime. Help them only take down people who were guilty. Help them _find_ the guilty people.

But she was still a cop. She had to stay a cop. She wasn't a vigilante. She wasn't going to _become_ a vigilante. And if she could, she would try to be a limiter on Oliver, on Laurel. Somehow.

Hopefully, that would let her be able to sleep at night.

Someday, anyway.

Tonight, though, Sara knew she wasn't going to be able to get any sleep. Kicking off her shoes, she went into the kitchen, pulling out a beer and starting up a fresh pot of coffee. Sleep wasn't going to be able to come, so she didn't even need to bother trying.

Popping the cap off her beer and tossing it on the counter, she sipped from the bottle, walking to her bedroom closet and opening the door, her collection of photos, printouts and newspaper clippings inside. All the 'clues' she'd assembled when trying to convince herself that she wasn't crazy.

She stared at them, at how much they missed the full reality of what she'd just found out, and how absurdly thin the evidence really was, and yet how right she'd still been. Little clues, little scraps of information, scribbled notes asking obvious questions she had the answers to now.

With a single half-strangled scream of frustration, Sara started ripping everything off the inside of the door, letting them scatter across the floor.

She didn't need them anymore.

She _was_ crazy.

 **Queen Consolidated Building, Starling City**

 **March 9th, 2013**

"Are you sure you want to do this, Oliver?" Laurel's voice over the comms asked, one last time as he readied himself on the roof, eyes on the target. His mother was in her office, having some sort of last meeting for the evening, exactly as he'd expected she would be. She'd said she'd be home late because of a meeting. At least she'd been telling the truth about this.

"I don't 'want' to, but I have to, Laurel," Oliver pointed out. "I need to know. My mother's involved, we know that - how and why, we don't know."

"And will you like what you learn? We have other ways to find the Dark Archer. We have time-"

"I don't like what I've learned already," Oliver countered, and Laurel made a small noise of agreement.

"Fair enough. If you need me-"

"I'll call for your help. But I'm not going to be fighting QC security." Hopefully he'd have his answers before they got there, and either way, he wasn't going to seriously injure the people who were responsible for keeping his mother safe when she was at work.

"Good luck," Laurel said quietly, and Oliver fired the arrow, watching it embed right above the window into his mother's office. And then -

He zipped across the distance quickly, crashing through the window feet first, landing with ease, his face covered with one arm to stop any glass. The guards were right where they always were - with three well placed punches, he took the two of them down, the first with one, the other with two, since he had a moment to prepare. The two men his mother had been meeting with immediately had tried to run for cover, while his mother stood there, behind her desk, watching, horror and fear and resolve written across her face.

He fired an arrow into the lap on his desk, trying to ignore the gasp of terror that escaped his mother as she tried to back away, hands held up. _Just cooperate Mom. I don't want to have to scare you more than I need to..._

"Moira Queen!" He barked, the voice modulator distorting his voice, bringing it down even lower than he was, but still intelligible. "You have failed this city!" She tried to reach for the phone, but Oliver fired again, the arrow landing almost into her hand, embedding in the desk next to the phone. He hadn't let himself second guess, and the shot had worked. But he couldn't take chances like that, even as good as he was...

"Stand still!" He ordered, her small sounds of terror as she stopped moving more than he wished he had to deal with...

"Please don't kill me!" She begged. Oliver stepped closer.

"Do you know anything about your husband's disappearance?" he asked first. Walter Steele had been looking into this, into her, and he vanished. The first place to start.

"What?!"

"Is Walter Steele still alive!?" He demanded.

"I don't know where my husband is! I swear." She answered, fear in her voice unmistakable, and she seemed to be telling the truth. _If she knew he was dead... if she had him killed because he knew too much..._

Which could mean he had been taken, as leverage against her. The other man in the recording, the one behind all this. Which meant his mother could just be a forced pawn.

It was better than the alternative.

"What is the Undertaking?" Oliver demanded. Instead of answering, his mother moved, grabbing something off the table behind her desk. "I said don't move!"

"I- I'm a mother!" she pleaded, dropping to one knee, then kneeling outright, holding the picture of himself and Thea before her. Oliver's breath caught. "I have a son, Oliver. A daughter," her voice broke, "her name is Thea. She's just a teenager. Please don't take me from my children." She begged.

Oliver had had people plead. People with children. But none had pleaded on behalf of their kids before. Always for their own lives, for themselves.

 _She's not in this for herself, for anything but keeping us safe._ Oliver was sure of that. He couldn't be anything else - he knew his mother, and he knew this, this had to be real. Her life possibly about to end, and her first thought was for Thea, and him.

"They lost their father. They can't lose me too. Please... whoever you are, _please_."

"Okay." Oliver's resolve didn't break, but it did lessen. He couldn't put his mother through this. Not if he could get his answers with a little less intimidation. He lowered his bow, slowly.

"I'm not gonna hurt you." True, and he could always pretend it wasn't if he had to go back to threatening her. But if he promised her children would be safe, then maybe she'd... maybe she'd tell the truth, if she thought the Hood could stop whoever was behind this from hurting her children.

Instead of saying anything, his mother dropped the picture, grabbed a gun from behind her and started firing. She got a flower face, inner windows of her office, and him.

The bullet sliced across his neck and Oliver pressed his hand to it, the blood soaking through the fabric of his suit and his fingers. He didn't have long to stay conscious. He heard his mother grab talking, probably calling security, but he didn't bother to make out the words. He had to move, quickly.

"Oliver, Oliver, talk to me!" Laurel demanded over the comms. "Damnit, I'm on my way!"

"No," Oliver muttered as he quickly got to his feet and made for the window. Taking his hand off his injury, he fired at the parking garage, a lower level. "Parking garage, ground floor." He managed to get out, grabbing onto the line with one hand, and pressing onto his wound again as he swung across the distance, landing inside the parking garage, dropping and rolling without grace.

"Call John, tell him to get ready..." Oliver said weakly as he got to his feet. "Tell him to get ready for surgery."

"I'm on my way," Laurel replied. He heard the sound of glass breaking - Laurel was hotwiring a car to get them back to the Foundary in time. Only way to move fast enough... Oliver dropped to his knees just above the stairs down to the ground floor of the parking garage, but he had to keep going. Just a little longer.

Just a little further.

His head was light, his vision blurring as a red station wagon stopped in front of him. Laurel was there, helping him into the back seat.

"I just hope whoever's car this is can get blood out of the seats when we're done with it," Laurel muttered as she laid him out and got back behind the wheel, pressing the wires again to start it back up. Oliver, only barely registered either of those things as he kept holding his hand to the injury.

"Just hold on Oliver..." Laurel's voice echoed in his ear as he slipped in and out of consciousness.


	21. Well Beyond The Line

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 21: Well Beyond The Line

 _A great hero is defined by a great villain._

 _It's a fact true in fiction, and it's a fact true in life. Had Malcolm Merlyn not set out to destroy Starling City, there would be no Arrow. There would be no Black Canary. And without them, of course, there would be no Arsenal, Speedy, Spartan or Jade Falcon. There would almost certainly be no Atom. And there is a case to be made that there might be no Flash, or at least, a very different Flash than we know._

 _But beyond even that, the Arrow and Black Canary might never have had the chance to rise above their standings - the Arrow as an object of fear, the Black Canary limited to the Glades, even if as a symbol of hope - had the Undertaking not begun._

 _It is impossible to know truly, how Malcolm got the idea for his plan. What pushed him into deciding that the only option for the Glades was to burn it down and start anew, but he did. His plan was clever, even brilliant. His apologists to this day have argued that had he been allowed to enact it properly, the death toll would have been effectively zero, and Starling City would have begun the economic boom of the mid-2020s a decade earlier._

 _Of course, his apologists would be wrong. And yet, that doesn't stop them from periodically publishing books. Most notably, of course, is "The True Undertaking: The Arrow, the Black Canary, and the Plot to Frame Malcolm Merlyn," by Josiah Crane._

 _Little ink needs to be spilled here explaining just how wrong that book, among all the rest, are. It is sufficient to note that Crane's "PhD" was accredited by an educational institution he founded and co-chairs._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **The Foundry**

 **March 10, 2013**

Laurel had never really been one for healthy coping mechanisms, or good ways of dealing with stress. No one in her family really was, judging by how her family had reacted to her 'death'. Dad had run to the job and to the bottle, Mom had divorced her dad and run off to Central City and Sara had run after her dad into the law, and barely had much of a social life, buried in her work as a cop.

 _Granted, outside of Oliver and Sara, I don't have much of a social life either._ She had her job, and she chatted with her coworkers as much as she had to, but she'd begged off various invitations to go out for drinks or whatever with the group after work, and she hadn't been as social as she could be.

Granted, it wasn't like she didn't have things to do, but still.

Regardless, healthy coping mechanisms for stress were not something she really had, and now was certainly one of those times. Oliver was out of the woods, the blood transfusion had worked - saving up all that blood of his, just as she had done for her own had been time consuming, but it had paid off. His heart had been restarted, and it was beating steadily, more or less, but now she was standing here, watching the monitor, waiting for her boyfriend and partner, practically literal soulmate, to wake up.

And acknowledging that it was possible he might not. It was unlikely, not now that he was out of the woods, not after that desperate scramble to keep him alive when she'd brought him here, barely on the edge of life after his own mother had shot him.

Granted, Moira Queen hadn't known it was her son she was shooting, but in the moment, at the time, she had been quite certain that if Oliver died, she wouldn't care about that fact.

But that hadn't happened, and now she just had to wait. The possibility existed that Oliver would end up in some sort of coma, for days, weeks, months or more. It wasn't very likely, but the way the human body handed traumatic injury could be quite variable.

In the League, she'd gotten people in the neck with arrows, and seen them live. She'd seen people die after seemingly minor injuries. And she'd seen people recover quickly, and people take a long time to recover.

"You got him here in time, Laurel." Diggle said softly, walking up to stand next to her. He chuckled hollowly, "When I saw you two taking a pint of blood every now and then to save up 'for a rainy day', I thought you guys were taking it too far. Being prepared, I mean."

"It's one of the things you pick up in the League." Laurel said, "You can't go to a hospital when you're on the job. So you prepare for that eventuality if you're going to be away from Nanda Parbat for a while."

"Does the League even have modern medical equipment?" Diggle asked. "I mean, they have you running around using bows, arrows and swords."

"The League isn't a collection of Luddities." Laurel clarified. "We're well trained to use technology in pursuit of our goals, but we don't rely on it. Guns are a crutch - swords, knives, bows, darts - they require precision. Discipline. Focus."

"Using a gun does too." Diggle pointed out.

"But anyone can pick a gun up and use it. You have to be _good_ with a sword to get away with using it." Laurel countered. "Case in point: Us sparring with wooden swords." She gestured to the wooden swords in question, a relatively recent addition to the training area of the Foundry.

Diggle followed her gesture, and winced in memory. "Fair enough."

"The League doesn't want a mission to fail because you expected your tech to work and it didn't. But there are actually medical facilities at Nanda Parbat. I wouldn't call them State of the Art, but they are modern enough." Laurel had been surprised when she learned that - not so much about the fact that they had modern facilities, but that they had medical facilities at all. She'd been three months into the League by that point, had broken her arm and nearly broken both legs, and gotten a whole host of scars in her training, and had not seen the inside of those facilities.

And given how little regard Ra's had seemed to have for his own people, the idea that he'd waste resources on treating their illnesses and injuries seemed hard to accept.

But apparently, once an Assassin had truly proved their worth, the League was willing to treat their injuries and illnesses, if incurred on the job. And of course, childbirth. Nyssa and her older sister weren't the only ones born to the League, though it wasn't common. But disease was a risk - in the 1300s, the Black Death had nearly wiped out the League, and since then, the League had always done their best to have all the resources possible to treat illness.

"But they weren't big on letting us use painkillers." Laurel added. You were expected to stay still through the pain, when having bullets removed or injuries sewn shut, and if it was a more complicated surgery, then they'd just knock you out, but again, no pain killers. And especially not after the surgery.

Diggle scoffed, "That sounds more like the League you've described." Diggle walked away and sat down in front of the computers, looking at the List, then back at her. "If Oliver didn't get anything from his mom, what's next? Round two once he wakes up?"

"She's probably going to have security stepped up on her for a while, so probably not." Laurel pointed out. "And... I don't think so. It was hard enough for Ollie to do this - that he hesitated with her at all is why he got shot." She closed her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into the base of her hands as she licked her nips, shifting a little as she stood. She should be trying to get some sleep, or at least sitting down, but she couldn't.

Standing here was pointless, torturing herself with scenarios where Oliver didn't wake was pointless, and second-guessing what she did when Ollie got shot - she'd moved as quick as she could, and there was no way she could have gotten him into the car faster, while also getting that car.

 _Shit._

The car was still not far from Verdant. She'd have to take it somewhere else, ditch it.

And then there was another issue - Oliver's blood would be at the scene. The police were going to be called in - they had been called in already, no doubt. Forensics all over the scene.

Oliver's blood in the car would be easy enough to deal with. She'd have to burn the thing. She didn't like the idea of burning someone else's property, but that was what car insurance was for. And she didn't really have much choice.

But the blood at the crime scene itself.

Laurel swallowed as the obvious solution presented itself. Sara.

 _I don't want to put her in that position._

But did she have any other choice? Short of breaking into the crime lab herself.

 _Well, I could do that._ She couldn't do it in the Black Canary outfit - she couldn't have the Black Canary known for breaking into some place associated with law enforcement. But she could wear a mask, and it wasn't like she couldn't beat the security there, with the right preparation.

And she had time. Sara and her father were always complaining about how much a backlog there was at the Crime Lab, especially with blood samples.

Pulling away from watching Ollie, Laurel grabbed a bottle of accelerant and some lighters. "Pull up the schematics for the city's crime lab," Laurel told Diggle. "They're already in the system."

Diggle looked at her, "Wait, really?"

"Like you said - we like to be prepared." They had hacked the city for plans for every city-owned building - City Hall, even. It hadn't been hard to get those plans, really. Starling City had really skimped on it's cybersecurity.

"What exactly are you-" Diggle started, and then he closed his eyes. "Right. They'll have a sample from the crime scene."

"I'm not asking Sara to deal with it." After Sara hadn't turned them in, she was sure Sara would, if she asked. But she wouldn't put her sister in the position where she had to do that. Had to cross that line.

"But first, I have a car to burn and evidence to destroy." Laurel started to head towards the stairs, then she hesitated, looking back to Oliver.

"He's going to make it." He gestured to the heart monitor. "The beat's solid, his blood's replenished. He'll probably be awake by the time you get back from burning the car."

"Hopefully," Laurel said after a moment to take a deep breath.

 **Starling City Police Department**

 **March 10, 2013**

Sara was a little amazed she hadn't been put on any sort of suspension after she'd worked with the Hood to rescue her sister, but while the Police still wanted to catch the vigilantes, after the Hood and Black Canary took out that other archer over christmas, the priority was lower. And frankly, she figured the Lieutenant knew that the rest of the department would probably have done the same, if their loved ones had been in the hands of someone like Vanch.

And she had - as far as the cops new - told them everything she knew about the vigilante. Not much that could be useful, but she'd given the sketch artist details on what she had claimed was a glimpse of his face - not much to go on, just a bit of his chin and the side of his face.

 _Not that it's actually Oliver's profile I described._

"...I appreciate there are other cases, but this is-" Sara turned towards the sound of her father growling into his phone. "Yes, it **is** that important. This is high-prof-" he paused again, "damnit, Franklin, no, I'm not saying-" another pause, as Franklin - presumably Nick Franklin, one of the analysts at the crime lab, judging by what her dad was saying. "You have to do better than five days. We're talking about the Hood here."

 _The Hood?_ Shit. She'd seen on the news this morning that the Hood had 'attacked' Moira Queen in her office last night, and Oliver had said he was going to have to press his mother for more information, given the deadline they were facing the revelations about what had happened to the _Queen's Gambit_ , and her salvage of it, but she hadn't thought he'd left any evidence behind.

 _Crap._ Never before had Sara been thankful for how backed up the crime lab was, but as she watched her father argue with Franklin, she spared a small prayer to the gods of bureaucracy that the plans to increase funding to the crime lab had gotten caught up in committee with the City Council last year and had made no progress since.

She also listened in on the call.

"Every day this guy is free - no, look I'm not saying," another longer pause, "yes, I know, I know. Every detective tells you their case is -" her father dropped his head into one hand, dragging it down his face as he sighed. "Look, please, just faster than five days, I'm begging you." pause. "Yes, begging you." He frowned, "Three days?" He let out another sigh, smaller this time. "Alright. I'll take it. I'll owe you one, Franklin." pause. "Okay, more than one, fine. Three days - I'm holding you to that." He hung up the phone.

 _What do they have? What happened to Oliver?_ It wouldn't be fingerprints - he wore gloves and prints wouldn't take five days to run, even with backlog. So it had to be something else.

"What has you arguing with Franklin now?" Sara asked, moving to her desk. "Something about the Hood, from what I heard on this end."

"Sara," her dad looked up, and she realized he looked terrible.

"Did you get any sleep last night, dad?" Sara demanded, sitting down and grabbing a report that had landed on her desk, skimming over it quickly.

"I tried. Got back home when the call came in about the Hood's visit to Queen's mother." Her father explained. Sara started at him - that was nearly midnight. He met her gaze, as if challenging her to call him out. Which she really couldn't do - she had stayed at the precinct past midnight herself more times than she wanted to remember.

As if speaking of his lack of sleep reminded him how tired he was, he reached for his coffee mug, then muttered a curse as he realized it was empty.

"Here, let me," Sara said, getting up, walking to his desk and grabbing his mug. She had her own mug in her other hand.

If her dad had found DNA that could lead them to identifying Oliver as the Hood... her dad might cover for Laurel, maybe. But he wouldn't for Oliver. Not with everything the Hood had done. She had enough trouble accepting the Hood's murders, but her father? No.

Which left her with only one real choice - she had to find out what her dad had found, and then she had to destroy it, or steal it, or _something._ Sara found herself moving on autopilot as she made the coffee and poured it into the two mugs before coming back. Mostly, though, her mind was working through the problem, and the inevitable conclusion.

She'd made her choice - she wasn't turning in her sister, or Oliver. They broke the law. A lot, in Oliver's case. But they were doing good things for the city, and as long as this... League hung a death sentence over Laurel's head, they had to keep working the people on that list, they had to find that Dark Archer. Oliver didn't kill as a first resort, and she could probably make sure he killed even less people by helping them.

But now that she'd made her choice, she had to stick with it. Destroying evidence... that's the sort of thing that would have her arrested, not just fired from the Police Department. But she had no real choice, did she? Even if she didn't value Oliver as a friend and his contributions as the Hood...

Oliver being arrested, and taken to prison for his 'crimes' as the Hood? Sara didn't want to imagine what that would do to Laurel, assuming she didn't just break him out anyway. She'd seen the way the two were around each other. Not only had it really always been the two of them, always and forever, Oliver and Laurel - her childish crush years ago aside - but now? Sometimes, it was like watching one person in two bodies, the way they were around eachother, the way they fit together.

And from the sound of everything the two of them had been through those five years... Sara was pretty sure the only thing keeping them both from cracking under it all was the fact that they had each other.

So if nothing else, for her sister alone, Sara had to get rid of that evidence.

 _I'm sorry Dad._

She touched the Detective's badge at her belt for a moment, taking a breath as she accepted the reality of her situation.

 _Law really is just a means to an end._ She told herself, even though she'd already made her decision and didn't need to rationalize it more.

Finally, with the coffee done, she went back to her father's desk and set his mug down in front of him. He'd propped one arm on the desk on his elbow and rested his head on his splayed hand. Sara cleared her throat.

"Wha-" Her father jolted up, blinking quickly. "Wasn't asleep... yet," he added that last part with a mutter, but he lifted the mug and took a slow, careful sip. "Thanks," he added.

"Welcome," she nodded, then leaned against the edge of his desk as she sipped at her own coffee. "So, what were you arguing with Franklin about?" she asked again.

"The usual - trying to get the DNA faster. At least I managed to talk him into moving it up a few days." He sighed. "He's right - every cop that hands something in to him tells him all about how urgent it is, they need it yesterday."

"Well, we usually do," Sara pointed out. "But he's overworked and understaffed over there, so it's what it is. What did you find though? I mean, the Hood's never left anything behind yet."

"Bastard got himself shot. Queen's mom managed to hit him. Not sure how, but I guess the guy let down his guard. Didn't think she'd put up a fight." Her father explained. Sara managed to stop herself from inhaling sharply at the news that Oliver had been shot. For a moment, she started to worry, tensing just a little, but she took another sip of her coffee and used the mug to mask her lip as she bit it for a moment.

 _If he was seriously hurt, Laurel would have called me. And if he was dead... I'd have heard that too._ Or seen some sort of reaction from the Black Canary.

"He got shot?"

"Yep. Probably just a grazing hit, since he went and vanished right after, but left enough blood for the CSI guys to get a sample for testing." He sighed, "Hood probably won't be in the system, but at least we'll have something for comparison."

 _Is Oliver's DNA in the system?_ Sara didn't know - his fingerprints were, from his previous arrests, but she didn't **think** anyone had taken his DNA. And in theory, the failed trial should keep suspicion off of him.

But still. She couldn't let it be tested. Once they had it...

"Well, you've been after the Hood for six months. What's three more days?" Sara pointed out.

"You'd think it would be that simple," Her dad grumbled. He looked up at her, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sara lied, sipping again at her coffee. She started walking towards her desk. "Just... working through something. Personal."

"Too personal to talk to your old man about?" Her dad smiled a little, "what, guy trouble? Girl trouble?"

Sara rolled her eyes, "Dad, when would I have time to meet anyone?

"It is possible to meet people when you're a detective, Sara. You and your sister are living proof of that." He pointed out.

"Weren't you still a beat cop when you met mom?" Sara pointed out, chuckling. But he did have a point - they had made their relationship and then their marriage work for years and years after he became a Detective.

 _Of course, then it didn't work out._

She still had trouble understanding why her mom divorced, then ran off. She sort of got it - the house reminded her of Laurel, and it's not like Dad had been handling his grief well. But she just... ran off. Like it was so easy.

 _Our family isn't really one for healthy grieving._ Or healthy coping in general. Sara enjoyed the occasional beer, or, if the occasion required it, a glass of wine, but despite occasionally wanting to try something more, she'd avoided ever trying anything else. Not with her dad's history. And her mother's method of coping with things was to just pretend they didn't exist, usually.

The many and sundry times she'd acted out as a teenager, for example.

 _Okay, now I'm being unfair._ Sara was usually unfair to her mother, though, she knew. And she really needed to stop thinking about her mother or she'd end up spending hours down that particular rabbit hole. And that was not especially productive or helpful, especially now.

"True," Her father admitted. "I just want to see you happy, Sara. Lord knows that's the only reason I ever put up with Queen six, seven, eight years ago. Made your sister happy. Still does - though I do have to admit, he's a lot better than he was. Making something of himself, that club of his."

"Wait, you're actually praising a nightclub?" Her father _hated_ nightclubs. Especially when she or Laurel had gone to them. Especially her, since she was the one to always get up to the worst there.

"Not the club, but Oliver Queen's not just resting on his name and his family's money anymore. He's actually trying to start a business, earn something through hard word. I respect that." He chuckled a bit, "though his family money gives him a leg up over the rest of us."

"Point," she nodded. She let out a sigh. "I should get to work." She had to prepare for her testimony at Vanch's trial, whenever that happened, and she did have cases she was working on. And she had to find time to get to the crime lab, figure out how to get that blood sample.

Security at the crime lab was good, but she had every right to be there, so she could get past most of it pretty easily. The real risk was cameras - when the crime lab reported the sample missing, they would check security cameras, and then there was every risk they'd see her getting the sample.

 _I have three days before he runs the sample. Which means I have time to go down there, get a look at what I have to worry about._ See where the cameras were.

It was time to think like a thief.

 **The Foundry**

 **March 10, 2013**

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Diggle said as Oliver sat up slowly, blinking. His shoulder hurt. He was on one of the tables in the -

He looked down at his shoulder, the bandage there, and his memory of last night returned - confronting his mother, her holding up the picture of Thea and him, lowering his bow...

And his mother shooting him.

He'd never even known his mother knew how to use a gun, let alone that she was prepared to use one against another human. Though her shots had been wild, reckless. If he'd been paying better attention, been on his guard...

He probably could have moved enough for it to be just a grazing shot, rather than one quite so bad.

"Dig," he nodded. "How bad did it get?" He looked around and saw the heart monitor and defibrillator next to the table. "Very bad, I'm guessing."

"We were worried for a little bit in there, but once we got your heart going again, I figured it was just a matter of time." He chuckled, "Next time I start to joke that you're being too prepared, remind me that we had to use some of that blood you stored up to save your life." He shook his head. "And you were never a Boy Scout?"

Oliver smiled slightly, "No. I went camping with Dad and Tommy a few times, sure, but I wasn't really one for that sort of hard word and diligence as a kid." Might have availed him better on Lian Yu if he had, but then, nothing could have prepared him for Fyers or the rest of the things that happened to him on Island and afterwards.

"Where's Laurel?"

"She went to dump and burn the car she stole to get you here. Blood's all over the seat." Diggle explained. "She should be back soon, probably." He added.

"Right." He inhaled slowly.

"She was there for hours, waiting until we were sure you were out of the woods," Diggle added. He stood up, "What happened? Laurel was a bit light on the details. Just that your mom shot you." There was a note of accusation in his tone - the same note he'd had when he said he was going to follow Mom around for a bit in the first place.

"I didn't really have much time to explain to her," Oliver said, sighing a bit.

"Explain what?" Laurel asked as she started to come down the stairs. Then she blinked, saw that Oliver was awake and ran the distance between them, nearly vaulting over a table in her haste to get to him. She pulled him in for a hug, careful with his shoulder, holding him tight nontheless.

"Ollie!" She let out a breath. She didn't say anything else - she didn't need to. Oliver put his hands around her and held her in turn. She didn't need to say how worried she was - that much was evident in how she'd run to him. She didn't need to _say_ 'never do that again!', that was evident in how tight she hugged him. For a moment, she laid her head on his uninjured shoulder, then opened her eyes and pressed a light kiss to his lips, before pulling back, though still keeping her arms around him.

"How do you feel?"

"Better than I probably should. But yes, I'll take it easy for the rest of the day." He kissed the top of her head gently, then pressed his own forehead against hers.

"I didn't say anything," Laurel 'protested', smiling a little.

"Did you have to?" Oliver countered, unable to stop from smiling a little himself. He pulled back and met her gaze. "Are you-"

"I'm fine. I'm not the one who got shot," Laurel pointed out. "The car's torched. I just have to get rid of any samples the crime lab might have taken." slowly, reluctance written across her face, she pulled back further from Oliver, dropping her arms to her sides as she looked back over to Diggle. "Did you pull up the details on the Crime Lab?"

"Yeah," Diggle nodded. He got up from in front of the computers, and Oliver followed Laurel over to them, watching over her shoulder as she looked over the layout of the building and the security therein.

"Looks like getting in will be the only real hard part." Oliver noted after a minute of silence. "Scrambling the cameras will be simple enough."

"True." Laurel nodded. "Especially since we know exactly where they are." She traced a route from the entrance to the room where the sample of his blood would likely be. "Three cameras, not counting the ones outside."

"Isn't this the sort of thing we could ask Sara for help on?"

"I don't want to force her to make that decision. If I asked, she'd do it, I'm sure. But stealing evidence is the kind of thing that gets her arrested, and even the suspicion could get her thrown out of the police. For all that she's complained about it, you know she loves being a detective, being able to help people the way she does." Laurel explained, not looking away from the screen.

"Besides," she added, "It shouldn't be that hard, really."

"No, probably not. Depends on how obvious you want to be," Oliver agreed. "If the sample goes missing, it's going to be obvious who did it. So is there any point in being subtle?"

"Not really, no," Laurel agreed. "As long as everyone thinks the Hood did it. The Black Canary can't have a reputation for breaking into the crime lab." Oliver nodded, making a noise of agreement. That much was true. The Black Canary could be seen working with the Hood, had been seen working with the Hood, but as a symbol of hope, she had to walk a line that the Hood had proven he was willing to go beyond.

The Black Canary couldn't kill, the Black Canary couldn't steal, the Black Canary could hardly go directly against the police. She had to be the hero, unblemished. That was the whole plan, and Oliver supported it, wholeheartedly. Starling City needed a hero to look up to.

"You could always wear the Hood again," Oliver suggested. "Or I can-" even though he was suggesting it - genuinely - he knew Laurel would say no. He didn't get out as much of the suggestion as he expected he would though.

"No," Laurel's voice was firm. She turned around in the chair to look back and up at him. "Ollie, you promised to take it easy, and you should."

"I've had worse," Oliver pointed out.

"And so have I, but that's not the point and you know it." Laurel countered, and Oliver sighed, nodding. "But that's a good idea, wearing the Hood. Shouldn't be anyone to see me, not for more than a few seconds, so people won't have as much chance to notice the Hood has suddenly lost half a foot in height, and isn't such a tree of a person anymore." She grinned, teasing him as she poked his chest lightly, far from his injury, of course.

"I thought you liked how tall I was," Oliver countered, smiling a little, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the top of her head again. Laurel laughed, putting one of her hands atop his as they met at her waist. She sighed.

"I was worried, you know," she said quietly. "I mean... there was so much blood, and then your heart stopped..." she trailed off, finding it hard to say more. She swallowed. "If you had died-"

"But I didn't," Oliver interrupted. "You don't think I worry every time you get hurt, Laurel?" He swallowed, the thought of her getting as hurt as he had just been... "But this line of work is dangerous. It's not like either one of us is about to give it up."

"No, I suppose not." Laurel admitted. "Not when there's still so much to do." She sighed. "Alright. I'll take the Hood. what do you think about this?" She gestured at the schematic again, then touched her finger to the screen, "I could get up on the roof with one of your zipline arrows, and then come in through the vents." She brought up the vent schematics for the building. "Gets past any security at the doors, and looks like I can drop into here. Scramble the camera here, go down this hallway, into the lab and find your sample. Probably on ice somewhere until they can run it." She traced the route. "Less cameras - just the one where I come in and the one outside the hall. I could probably get it done in five minutes, ten if something unexpected comes up."

"Looks like it would work." Oliver nodded. "I can't imagine they'd have security this far inside the building. Not with the city's budget as it is." Never enough, and always being directed towards too many things - and usually the wrong things at that. Though at least they weren't throwing it at a new stadium.

"City's budget being the way it is has made our jobs harder a lot, might as well help us out for once," Laurel agreed. "Alright. Soon as it's dark, I'll get to work. In the meantime," she stood up, "we need to talk about what we do next, and what your mom knows. And how we find out."

"We're not going to go after her again," Oliver said firmly. "You heard her - she begged. Not for herself, but for Thea. for me. I've gone after people with children before - they've never mentioned them, never asked to be there _for them_." Oliver shook his head. "Whatever she's doing, she's doing it because she has no choice."

"Ollie-" Laurel started,

"Laurel, you _know_ my mom. Do you think she could _ever_ be doing something like this - helping the man who killed Dad, who she thought killed _me_ , if she thought there was any other options?"

"Just because she was trying to protect Thea, and now the both of you, doesn't make whatever she's doing for this... whoever the hell she was talking to, okay!" Laurel pointed out.

"She's right," Diggle commented. "And she did shoot you."

"She thought I was going to kill her. It's not like that wasn't the whole point of coming in and pointing an arrow at her." Oliver countered. "I just... didn't expect her to have a gun."

"Or she was hiding something," Diggle countered.

"That's not really at question. Of course she's hiding something!" Oliver countered. "You have her on tape. We know she knows things, but I also know that the only way we're going to get that information is if the Hood threatens her again, and that didn't exactly turn out well, now did it? I'm not going to hurt my mother - she's not evil, Diggle. She's just... she's scared. She was scared of the Hood, but it has to be more than that." Oliver shook his head, taking a breath.

Diggle shook his head, letting out a small sigh, clearly not convinced, but also seeming to acknowledge he wasn't going to win this one. "So you got shot and learned nothing. What happens next, then?"

"Well, we could keep spying on her, see what comes up?" Laurel suggested.

"How? Filling in for her driver's time off with his kid once was one thing, but I can't do that every month, and then there's the rest of the time when he's back on the job," Diggle pointed out. Laurel had nothing to say for that, but Oliver had a thought.

"We could bug her phone."

"She's probably not going to have conversations about her evil conspiracy on an open line," Diggle countered.

"No, of course not. But it would give us a better idea of what she's up to, and where she goes." And wasn't it possible to turn someone's phone into a listening device? Not that he had any idea of how to do that, but if they could figure it out...

"Even if she has the meetings face to face, she has to find out she's going to have them somehow." Oliver added. Diggle nodded after a moment.

"There is that. Easier said than done, but you do live under the same roof, so getting at her phone sometime shouldn't be too hard." Diggle considered, going on.

"No, it wouldn't. But if we're going to bug her phone, we'll want to make sure it's very well hidden." Laurel said. "And we're also going to need a different angle of investigation. We can't pin all our hopes on spying on your Mom."

"No, I suppose not. You sound like you have an idea though." Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"I do." Laurel nodded. "Felicity." Oliver blinked at her suggestion, but as she started to explain her thinking, Oliver couldn't deny her logic. "She's the one who got us onto your Mom in the first place. Walter had her digging into her - she told us about the copy of the List he found, but if we tell her what we know about this, and she tell us anything else she's found out..." Laurel shrugged. "Maybe it'll spark something. And with Sara in the mix now, anything we find out she can check from her side of things, legally."

"She does know who we are. Which was kind of the whole point of testing her with those obvious lies," Oliver admitted. "And it would be easier to make use of her skill set when we have to." He'd certainly considered it would sooner or later come to this, when he'd first decided to approach Felicity. She'd had any number of chances to go to the police with his obvious lies, and she hadn't taken them. And then she'd reached out to them with evidence that had given them several clues - the Queen's Gambit was sabotaged, his mom knew who by...

 _Who could be behind the List?_ It had to be someone his father knew, his mother knew, someone connected enough to know all the dirty little secrets of all the wealthiest and most powerful people in the city. Everyone in the list was up to something, if not a whole lot of things. Mostly financial crimes, too. So it would have to be someone aware of that.

Oliver felt like he had the beginnings of an idea as these thoughts worked through his head, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He inhaled for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah, Felicity sounds like a good plan. But at the same time - you heard her. She did say she didn't want to know - I don't know if she wants to really be involved in... all this." He gestured to the Foundry around them, their costumes, weapons, et cetera.

"If she wants to find Walter, this is her best bet. Our best bet." Laurel pointed out. "You can give her the choice."

"True." Oliver looked over at Diggle. "What do you think?"

"She's practically an unofficial member of the team. Would be easier to get her help if she was part of the team officially, when you need her tech skill. And she might know more about Walter digging into things." Diggle nodded, "It's risky, but like you said, she already knows anyway, so how much more risk is it, really?"

"Some, but we're going to have to take that risk." Laurel pointed out. "If we wanted to avoid risk, we should really be finding a different line of work." She smiled a bit wryly. "At least there'd be less worrying, if we did."

"Maybe. But you wouldn't give up being the Black Canary any faster than Sara would give up being a cop." Oliver couldn't see himself giving up his bow and arrow any easier - he didn't find the same fulfillment in his 'work' as Laurel did in hers, but even once the List was dealt with... Starling City still had more than would need to be done, and he was hardly going to leave it all to Laurel, make her do it herself.

 _I guess I won't be hanging up my bow and arrows anytime soon._ The thought didn't seem all that unappealing, in some ways.

 **Starling City Crime Lab**

 **March 10, 2013**

Coming back to the Crime Lab was easier said than done. First time she was able to manufacture an excuse, asking questions about an old case, as if she was thinking there might be more to it. She had known there wasn't, so the lab tech she talked to - not Franklin, one of the others, new girl, Sara couldn't remember her name - 'convincing' her that she was barking up the wrong tree about the DNA supporting her theory a second person was involved was believable, but it had given her a good excuse to be in the building. She'd been lucky enough to get a moment alone in the corner of the lab. She hadn't had enough time to grab Oliver's blood sample and get out with it, nor was she going to risk it in the open.

But what she had done was move it, out of place, to an entirely different shelf of the sample storage freezer, and hidden it behind several other samples. It wasn't much, but it would do until the night. It had still been a close call, the tech turning around moments after she was done.

Getting back into the crime lab tonight would have been just as easy - find some manufactured reason to come and talk to the one tech on duty this late. But it would have left witnesses, left a record. Night shift at the crime lab was one especially overworked lab tech: Victor Johannes. He wasn't a particularly likeable man, which was one of the side benefits of stealing this sample out from under him.

Fortunately, Sara had ways to get inside.

Wearing gloves, dark grey pants and a dark grey hoodie - better for blending into a city at night than all black - she approached one of the side entrances. It was watched by a security camera, yes, and also locked. There wasn't anything she could do about the camera but hide her face, which she was doing, and hope the security guard wasn't watching the monitors. She could handle whatever rent-a-cop was guarding the place, and if he called the cops...

Well, she'd have to have a plan B. But this was the only camera she'd be risking.

As for the lock itself - well, there were advantages to a misspent youth followed by being a cop and then a detective. Pulling a set of lockpicks from her pocket, she made short work of the lock, and slowly slipped the door open.

 _Breaking and entering, tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice... just racking up the crimes now, aren't you Sara?_ She slipped through the door, closing it slowly and quietly behind her.

 _I stand by what I said the other night. I_ _ **am**_ _crazy._

She was an officer of the law, and here she was, breaking it, brazenly. Right thing to do or not, she shouldn't be doing this. Which of course, begged the question, is this really the right thing to do.

But...

She didn't really have the right to make that call. Or rather, to un-make it. She'd already made that choice. She wasn't really crossing the line here. She was already well beyond the line. Any right she'd had to question whether or not this was a good idea was a right she'd already exercised.

 _Crazy or not, here I come._

Shaking her head, Sara looked left and right, pulling up her mental map of the place from her visit earlier. There was no camera down the left hallway - it would be more round-about to get her where she wanted, avoiding the cameras, but she'd get there. Moving carefully and slowly, she walked through the dimly lit hallway, then into another room - the lunchroom - and through another door. She passed through a second hallway. Just up ahead, there'd be a turn down another hallway and then she could enter the lab from there.

She reached that hallway, turned down the last one, and drew close to the door. She reached for the knob and tested it. Locked. She started to reach for her lockpicks again when she heard something. It was the slightest step, the slightest movement, she wasn't even sure -

Hand dropping to her gun, Sara started to turn around, pulling a pistol - not her service weapon - from the holster -

Only to have it knocked from her hand by a blow to her wrist that left her right hand feeling numb, and unresponsive. Someone in a green hood was behind her, but Sara could immediately tell it wasn't Oliver. Too short and too-

"Laurel?!" Sara hissed. _What the hell is she doing_ - _oh. Right._

"Sara?! Laurel replied, sounding just as shocked as Sara had felt just a split-second before. Her sister moved forward a bit, and Sara could see under the hood that it was indeed her sister.

"I don't suppose I need to really ask why you're here, do I?"


	22. Leverage

**Disclaimer:** Own it, I do not. Yoda, I am not.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 22: Leverage

 _It is not true, that old saying that behind every successful superhero or vigilante is a whole unsung team doing half the work. Not universally, anyway._

 _But it's also true that most of them do have a team._

 _Fighting crime, or worse, is no easy feat. It requires access to information, managing logistics, expertise in all manner of fields. It often requires people to be in many places at once, on different tasks of varying levels of threat._

 _Someone might need scientists, for certain kinds of threats, or for forensic assistance. Information specialists - hackers, spies, information brokers, whatever - for intelligence gathering. Medical assistance. Weapon design and maintenance. All manner of things. Any given superhero or vigilante may be able to do some of these things themselves, but they can't do them all, usually, and they can't do them all at the same time._

 _It is true, though, that the unpowered and unmasked members of these teams don't get a lot of notice. Even when their names are known, details on what they do rarely make the history books. Sometimes, even when memoirs are written, names are kept deliberately hidden._

 _For instance - in the early years of their time as the Arrow and Black Canary, Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance had the assistance of a computer science specialist - one with a hacker past, albeit with limited real crimes, purportedly, and that had been, at the time of joining the team, been employed by Queen Consolidated._

 _Laurel Lance's incomplete memoirs do not name this woman, simply referring to her as I.T. She noted, interestingly, that this was at the request of the person in question. But there are a few hints dropped, and people have posited various theories as to the identity of this woman. It's impossible, short of a time machine or a speedster checking the past for us, to know which theory was correct, however._

 _I do tend to lean, for reasons I shall elaborate on, towards the theory that the woman in question was Felicity Smoak, who would later go on to achieve notable fame in Computer Science history - even if her name is little known outside this field - for several programs that revolutionized data analysis, made her quite a wealthy woman, and made Queen Consolidated a leader in the field for decades._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

 **Starling City Crime Lab**

 **March 10, 2013**

"No, you don't, but what are you doing here?!" Laurel demanded in a quiet hiss, looking at her sister. _No cop uniform, and wearing dark greys..._ Her sister knew how little Black was good for when trying to avoid being seen, in most cases.

Of course, the League didn't entirely care - if you were noticed enough to be seen in your League uniform, then you deserved to get shot or have the alarm raised on you. Because while all black wasn't as good at moving in the dark, unless it was truly pitch black or very very nearly so, it was intimidating. Especially when a whole team appeared from seemingly nowhere and pronounced your sentence of death.

"Well, it's obvious too, isn't it?" Sara replied, snark creeping into her voice.

 _Well, yes, obviously._ If Sara had been here on police business she'd have her badge, she'd be wearing less conspicuous clothes, and the lights would be on. So she could only be here for Oliver's blood - unless there was evidence of some other crime she was trying to destroy, but Laurel couldn't imagine Sara doing that.

"Sara, you're a cop! A detective! You can't - you can't-"

"What, go around helping vigilantes by destroying evidence? Not turning vigilantes in when I know their names?" Sara interrupted, sarcastically.

"Not turning Oliver or me in is one thing, Sara. This..." Laurel gestured to the door to the lab. "This is a little different."

"Not really," Sara disagreed. "Look, we're both here for the same reason, so let's get the blood sample dealt with." Laurel watched as her sister pulled a set of lockpicks from her pocket and set to work on the door, picking them as well or better than she might have.

"Where did you learn how to do that?!" Laurel demanded in a quiet hiss. She'd learned from the League, but when would Sara have-

"Laurel, I've known how to pick locks since I was 14, ever since you got a lock for your diary," Sara said quietly.

"Wait - you - you -" Laurel spluttered. She'd put that lock on her diary because she'd known her little sister was reading it, but she'd always figured that had worked - her diary never mysteriously moved, and sara never taunted her about some of the things she'd written in it... or all the hearts she'd drawn around 'Ollie + Laurel' she'd done in the margins of just about every page.

Just thinking about that - and some of the other childish things she'd done in her diary made her flush, and she was grateful she was borrowing Oliver's hood for this.

"Plus," Sara added as she turned the picks in the lock and Laurel heard a slight click as the door unlocked, "you do realize cops sometimes have to pick locks when serving warrants, right?" _And that I broke into places as a teenager?_

"... right," Laurel admitted, flushing a little more as she realized that much as well. "Sorry. But - really? You kept reading - why didn't you taunt me like you did before?"

"Are you actually upset about this? Laurel, it's been twelve years." Sara shook her head and turned the knob, opening the door slowly. "And I didn't tease or taunt you or whatever because it was too much fun knowing you had no idea I was reading it."

 _That sounds like Sara back then,_ Laurel considered as she rolled her eyes and followed Sara into the lab. The room was dark, but many of the devices had screens that were on or displays that provided little bits of light. And at the far room, the sample freezer, with a clear open door, was lit on the inside, that internal bulb casting pale blue light onto the rest of the room.

"No, I'm not upset - I was just surprised. I was so _sure_ that lock worked," Laurel admitted ruefully. She shook her head, "Anyway." She moved towards the sample freezer. Sara stepped in front of her.

"I was here earlier today. I moved the blood sample from the crime scene - it's still in the Freezer, but I wanted it to 'go missing' until tonight." Sara explained. "After I heard from Dad that they had a sample of the Hood's blood." Laurel watched her sister check her gloves, then pull the sample case open. "Speaking of - why did I have to hear it from him? How did I _not_ hear from you about it? Especially the part where you needed evidence dealt with." Sara reached into the back and pulled out a vial.

Laurel watched Sara just... casually steal evidence. She didn't understand how her sister could do it so easily - she was a police detective, and she loved her job, Laurel knew that much. She was dedicated to it. So why was she so willing to just... risk it like this?

"It could handle it myself. I didn't want to bother you with it," Laurel explained.

"The whole point in having a friend on the force is for things like this," Sara pointed out. "Let's get out of here." She frowned, "What did you do about the cameras?"

"Nothing. They'll just see the Hood breaking in and stealing his blood sample. Well. Coming into the lab and the sample going missing. About what you'd expect." Laurel frowned, "What did you do?"

"I avoided them. When I came down here earlier, I checked where they were." Sara explained. They stepped out of the lab and Sara pulled the door closed, locking it behind her with her lockpicks. "Let me guess - you didn't tell me because you thought I'd be torn between the law and my sister?"

Laurel nodded after a moment, "Basically. I - I didn't want to put you in that position. Make you choose between risking Oliver - and me - getting caught, or... crossing that line." Whatever Sara said, destroying evidence and just hiding information were two very different things.

Sara rolled her eyes, "Laurel, that line is miles behind me. I should have gone to _someone_ the moment I started suspecting you. Hell, the moment I realized your 'friend' Nyssa was a wanted assassin, I should have said something." Sara shook her head, "I'm not just going to keep your secret and pretend you and Oliver aren't out there risking your lives and freedom to make this city a better place."

Sara inhaled sharply, "I'm in, Laurel. And that means I'm _in_. I don't need you to protect me from my own choices."

Laurel heard the conviction in her sisters voice, and realized how... patronizing it sounded, the idea that she was 'protecting' Sara from having to choose. Taking the choice unto herself rather than letting Sara make it.

Laurel nodded, then chuckled, "Alright. Fine. I promise that next time we need evidence destroyed, I'll come to you first."

"Good," Sara nodded, grinning a little. "Now let's get out of here. Come on, I'll take you the way that misses the cameras."

 **Queen City Park, Starling City**

 **March 11, 2013**

Oliver walked through the gate in the iron fence that surrounded the park his grandfather James Charles Queen had paid for. Well, he'd donated the money to the city and told them to use it to make a public park, which was the same thing.

His father had also spent liberally to help maintain and improve the place, Oliver remembered. He saw about a dozen kids playing on some playground equipment Robert Queen had paid for ten years ago, replacing the old set. Oliver hadn't really been paying close attention, but he thought he remembered his dad saying something about the old equipment being dangerous or something.

 _I haven't been back here in years._ He'd used to come here with his dad, or mom, or just his friends - and someone from the manor staff watching, of course - when he was a kid. Every weekend. He'd play on the old equipment, or do hide-and-go-seek in trees off on the south side of the park, disturbing all the people who came to sit in peace and appreciate the various flowers and art in that area.

He couldn't help but smile a little as he remembered the antics of a younger him. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven... back when things seemed so... simple.

Back when Tommy's dad's magic trick with the coin behind the ear had seemed so amazing and impressive.

Looking around, he found the large stone with the plaque set on it detailing how the park had originally been paid for by his grandfather, and the bench next to it. He sat down on it, then checked his phone. He was still five minutes early. With nothing to do until then, he pulled up one of the games Thea had insisted he install on his phone and try playing.

It only took him about three minutes of matching candies and watching them disappear to know this game wasn't for him. Shrugging, he exited the game and slipped the phone in his pocket. Of course, the whole time, he'd had one eye on his surroundings, so he'd seen Felicity enter the park and make her way slowly to the bench. She finally reached it and sat down on the other side of the bench, a small gap between him. More importantly, though, she was sitting stiffly, and obviously so.

"Felicity, don't act so conspicuous," Oliver said quietly. "People don't actually pass paper bags full of money and suitcases full of documents at public parks." Parking garages were a much better place for exchanges like that.

"Right," the blonde said after a moment. "Sorry..." she let out a sigh and tried to relax. "I -uh... thanks for setting up the meeting in a public place."

"Would you have come if I asked you to meet me somewhere in private?" Oliver asked, curious.

"I - maybe? Probably not? I don't know. I mean, if you were going to... you know, you would have already, right?"

"Probably," Oliver nodded, no sense in lying to her. "Look, I asked you to meet with me here, outside of your office, because we need your help."

Felicity blinked, "Then why aren't you dropping by my office unannounced like you usually do?"

"Because it's the kind of help I can't ask for with an obvious lie." Oliver said calmly. "Bit more involved than that."

Felicity blinked, furrowing her brow a little and biting her lip. He could all but see the wheels turning in her brain as she considered his words.

"Why - why did you lie to me so obviously?" She asked after a moment. "I mean - you have to be better than that to..." she trailed off, but she didn't exactly need to finish his question. "You even said you were, at the coffee shop."

"Testing you. I've seen your company proficiency scores, Felicity. You could be running the I.T. department if you wanted, or even have a position in R&D." Oliver debated for a moment not mentioning that he knew about her college boyfriend, but after a moment, he decided to go on. "I know about Cooper Seldon."

Felicity gasped, jumping a little in her seat, then took a deep, shuddering breath. "I -"

"The reason I approached you the first time was because the government suspected you of helping him, but couldn't prove it. My guess - you didn't approve of what he did."

"I - not really, no." Felicity admitted after a moment. "I mean... I get why he did it... student debt and... but no. And I didn't... I didn't exactly help him with what he did. Just... making what he used." She admitted, speaking quickly and haltingly at the same time, something Oliver wouldn't have imagined to be possible before just now. "So like - you were always going to ask for my help? More detailed?" She sped up a bit as she said that.

"I wanted the option. You never know when you might need the help of someone with computers. I didn't expect you to end up coming to me, though." Oliver answered. "And that's why I want your help."

Felicity followed his meaning immediately, though no one else but Laurel would have, since they were speaking so vaguely.

"You want my help with -" Felicity cut herself off for a moment and shook her head, though it seemed to be more to clear her thoughts than a rejection. She took a breath and started again, trying to speak a little slower. "You want me to help you - and your girlfriend - with the thing that - the thing your stepfather was looking into?" She said that last bit quieter, though Oliver hadn't noticed anyone listening in.

"It's a bit bigger than that, but basically, yes," Oliver told her. "It's not really something we can talk about in public." He frowned, "You said you wanted to help my stepfather, if you could."

"If he's alive," Felicity said, then she nodded. "I do. Like I said he - he was nice to me. Most people aren't."

"I hope he's alive," Oliver said. "I don't know one way or the other. But this is what he was looking into." Oliver stood. "It's your choice - you said at the coffee shop that you weren't sure if you wanted to know. Well, if you are going to help us, you will have to know."

"I figured," Felicity admitted. "So, if I say yes to helping you, that means-" He could hear the worry in her voice, and underlying that, fear. She didn't sound terrified, but she wouldn't be sane if she wasn't afraid.

 _I'd have worried there was a lot more to her, if it turned out she wasn't afraid._ That perhaps behind the facade she was something worse. Which was still possible, theoretically, but Oliver didn't think so.

"I won't pretend there won't be any danger," Oliver admitted. "But neither Laurel nor I would bring you into this if we weren't willing to do our best to keep you alive." It would be his responsibility especially if something happened. He'd been the one to propose approaching her at all, let alone bringing her in like this.

"When Mr. Steele asked me to help him on... this, he told me it could be dangerous." Felicity admitted. "I'll tell you what I told him - I don't like mysteries. They bug me. I mean... I don't like the idea of being in danger but..." she laughed a little. "I have questions, and I want to help Mr. Steele so..." She took a deep breath and stood up as well, holding out a hand. "I'm in."

Oliver took her hand and shook it. "Good. You've heard about the club I've been building out of the old Queen Consolidated steel mill?"

Felicity nodded, "I've seen it mentioned in the news, yeah."

"Come there this evening. Laurel and I will be there, we'll explain things." Oliver told her.

"Meet you alone on your turf." Felicity chuckled. "Doesn't sound ominous at all," she shook her head, "sorry. Kidding. I'll be there."

 **Verdant, Starling City**

 **March 11, 2013**

Oliver watched Felicity walk into the club. She didn't seem too afraid for her life, at least, which was good. He crossed his arms over his shoulders.

"So how'd she take the offer?" Laurel murmured, walking up to stand next to him as Felicity crossed what would be the dance floor once the club opened. There were just a few finishing touches left and the inspection. Shouldn't be more than a few more weeks. Tommy had done an excellent job organizing the finishing up of the club. But of course, he wasn't here now.

"She was a bit concerned, but she said mysteries bug her. I think she had to talk herself into a bit though," Oliver said. She'd seemed a little more hesitant at the start of the conversation than by the end of it, anyway.

"Well, this mystery is bugging me, so I guess she and I have that in common," Laurel muused.

"Felicity," Oliver said as she came closer. "Thanks for coming."

"I'm here, so what do you need?" Felicity asked. She had brought a laptop bag with her, and looked like she'd just come from work, dressed in office clothes.

Oliver shook his head, "Not up here. Downstairs," he gestured for her to follow him, and he headed for the door downstairs, entering in the code on the keypad and unlocking the door. "Ladies first," He said, letting Laurel go down and then Felicity before taking up the rear.

Felicity said nothing until the stairs turned and she could see the basement itself. Laurel's outfit on a dummy, the bow, the arrows, the training equipment, and the computer set up, among other things.

"What is this, your... Vigilante Cave?" she asked.

"Basically," Diggle commented, getting up from behind the computers. "John Diggle," he walked over to Felicity and held out a hand, which she accepted and shook.

"Felicity Smoak - but you probably know that already because Oliver and Laurel have been using me as their personal I.T. girl." Felicity said, babbling a bit. "And - I - sorry if I'm babbling, I do that." she added, letting go of Diggle's hand.

"I've seen worse," Sara said, coming up to introduce herself as well. "You're still not as bad as my college roommate after she drank two monsters and a five hour energy. In less than five minutes."

Felicity chuckled, "Okay, wow. I like my caffeine, but that sounds insane. Though - I have babbled worse than this and - stopping now." She took a breath. She looked from Sara to Laurel, "Sisters?"

"Sara Lance," Sara nodded. She stepped aside to let Felicity sit down in front of the computers, since that's where she'd have to be doing her work.

"Nice to meet you both," Felicity said, though she didn't sit down yet. "How many laws am I going to be breaking tonight? Just for reference?"

"No idea, but probably a few more than I will for not reporting you for breaking them," Sara suggested. She looked Felicity over a moment, and Oliver wasn't sure if she was assessing her or checking her out. Probably both. Felicity looked at her, confused, and Sara held up her detective badge, before slipping it into her pocket.

"You're helping them - I mean, okay, the Black Canary is your sister, but -" Felicity cleared her throat and cut herself off. "Right, sorry. Okay, on topic. Explanations."

"Right," Oliver nodded, He pulled the List out of his pocket and held it out to her.

"This is-" Felicity frowned as she looked at it, "This isn't the one I gave you... unless you put it through a lot of hell the last week."

"No, it's not. That was my father's copy," Oliver explained. "A list of all the people poisoning this city, he told me." He frowned for a moment, then, "The official story is that Laurel and I were the only ones to make it a lifeboat, that my father drowned before he could. The truth is, he made it to a boat... and shot himself, so there'd be enough food and water."

"Oh my god..." Felicity said, then swallowed. "I - I'm sorry... I-" She swallowed, clearly unsure what to say.

"I didn't realize what it was until I started using pages from it as kindling and then the heat from the fire made the letters appear." Oliver explained.

"That... that would do it, yeah. The version Mr. Steele gave me... it was blank, but when he told me to start running tests on it, eventually I used special glasses from applied sciences to read it. Some kind of ultraviolet ink." Felicity nodded. "So your father had one... and your mom had a copy. What it is? Apart from being your hit-list for who gets turned into pincushions. I mean, I ran those names when I had a copy... some pretty shady people on it."

"Very," Oliver nodded. He shook his head as he answered her question next, "I have no idea what it is anymore. I used to think it was my father's - some sort of way of atoning for his own sins against the city, or... something. I don't know. But then I found out he didn't write it."

"And now you want to figure out who did." Felicity finished, the implication obvious.

"Yes. I don't know who it is - but I do know he hired the Dark Archer."

Felicity furrowed her brow, "Who?"

"The guy that held those people hostage over Christmas," Oliver explained, and then Felicity nodded, obviously remembering that. "He did that specifically to call me out - call the Hood out. Whoever hired him realized I had to have a copy of the List,"

"Based on who you were targeting." Felicity followed. She looked to them, "Why do I get the feeling that this has been more about finding this 'Dark Archer' than it is about finding out who's behind the list?"

"Because it is, somewhat," Laurel admitted. "But at first, we had no idea that Walter was investigating the List, so our primary concern was finding the other archer... short version, he's a former member of an organization called the League of Assassins. They want him dead, and if we don't take care of him for them in the next few months, **I'm** dead." Laurel held up a hand. "Long story."

"I'm going to just go ahead and guess that every story you guys have is long."

"Pretty much, yeah," Diggle commented. He looked to Oliver, "You both say that a lot."

"You really do," Sara agreed.

"Noted," Oliver shook his head. Before they told her about what Diggle had recorded his mother saying, he wanted to know why his stepfather had asked Felicity to look into his mother. What had set his suspicions off? "You said Walter found the copy of the List you gave me because he thought my mother was up to something."

Felicity inhaled for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I did." She cleared her throat, "I should probably go to the start. I don't know what started this for him, but the first time I had anything to do with this was when Mr. Steele called me up to his office last year. I actually - I actually thought he was going to fire me. I was halfway through a rant about how I was the most capable person in I.T. before he interrupted me and told me I wasn't being fired." She bit her lip and flushed a little. "He wanted me to look into something for him." She pulled her laptop out of her bag and opened it up, pulling up a record of a financial transfer. Oliver looked at the screen.

"Queen Consolidated's Vancouver subsidiary invested $2.6 Million in a startup venture three years ago... and then the venture declared bankruptcy?" That was a lot of money, but not that much when set against the revenues of Queen Consolidated, from what Oliver knew - which wasn't much, in all honesty. "What's so weird about that? I mean... not every investment succeeds."

"No, and on the surface, it seems perfectly reasonable. Your mother authorized it, but there's nothing hinky about that either, in of itself. But I guess he thought there was something strange about it, so he asked me to see what I could find out." Felicity explained. "Which is when things got... weird."

"Weird?"

"Weird. The investment seemed perfectly legitimate, but the more I dug into it," she typed up at the laptop, then pulled up more financial records and legal documents, filling her screen. After a moment, she pulled out a cord and connected her laptop to the computers arrayed on the table, moving several of the documents to another screen.

Oliver watched Felicity type away at the computers for a moment, then she frowned, "Just for the record, your system setup is from the eighties. And not the good part of the eighties either - you know, Madonna, and leg warmers." Felicity pulled up more files, transferring them from screen to screen to display them all. "Honestly, this hurts my soul." She shook her head, "sorry." She turned halfway back towards them. "Back on topic."

"The company didn't exist - but I did manage to trace that $2.6 Million. It ended up being used to create a company called Tempest LLC." Felicity held up a hand. "Which _also_ doesn't really seem to exist. But they did spend that money on a warehouse."

Though he kept his expression unchanged, Oliver lighted on that word, warehouse. The other voice, the person his mother had been talking to - the person behind this whole thing, whatever it was, likely. _The warehouse where you've been storing the remains of the Queen's Gambit._

His mother had disposed of it, supposedly, at that man's order, but this must be when she first put it in the warehouse.

"You wouldn't happen to have the address of this warehouse?"

"Yup." Felicity pulled it up, "I gave that to Mr. Steele. I don't know what he did with it, or what's there."

"I can guess," Oliver said softly, trying to keep himself from tensing up. "The remains of the Queen's Gambit."

Felicity frowned for a moment, obviously not placing the name immediately, but then he saw the lightbulb go off in her eyes after that moment. "That's - that's your dad's yacht. The one that went down... with you two on it. And your mom had it in that warehouse?"

"She did. Until recently." Oliver frowned, then gestured for her to move her chair aside a bit, inhaling. They were going to have to play this for her anyway, sooner or later, and now it was directly relevant. He brought up the audio file, cleared up as much as they could get it done.

Felicity listened, then she closed her eyes, letting out a breath. "Oh my god... that explains it."

"Explains what?"

"Before Mr. Steele gave me that other copy of the List, I came to him with something else - that money transfer that I'd traced to the warehouse? I wasn't the first person to trace it." She pulled up something else on her laptop. A symbol, an interlocking set of lines inside of a circle. The same symbol on the inside of the List's booklet. Both copies.

"That's all I could find on whoever did the trace. They were good. NSA good. But if they're the person on the other end of that conversation..." Felicity trailed off, uncharacteristically.

 _Then maybe my mother didn't..._

"Well, then it's obvious," Sara interrupted his thoughts. "Whoever it is that your mom is working with... she salvaged the remains of the Queen's Gambit as leverage. Proof that it was sabotaged, not a natural wreck. But since whoever it was found it... he made her get rid of it."

Felicity gasped a moment, then pulled up something on her computer. A police report, on an accident...

Josiah Hudson's accident. He'd heard about that - he knew the man, in passing, since Hudson had been in charge of Queen Consolidated security even when Oliver had left Starling City over five years ago.

"When Mr. Steele gave me the book, he told me that he'd asked Josiah Hudson to look into this same matter. And he was dead under mysterious circumstances. I told him what I told you - mysteries bug me." Felicity was speaking nearly a mile a minute, "but I looked up the death. The car accident. Mysterious as hell, I agree, but more importantly, I noticed the date. Just days after I told Mr. Steele about the warehouse. At the time I thought - well, I thought your mother had him killed to keep something about the warehouse secret." She looked back to Oliver hesitantly, biting her lip.

"Only logical assumption you could draw, from what you knew," Sara told Felicity. She looked to Oliver. "I know she's your mom, but it would have been a logical assumption."

Oliver felt Laurel put a hand on his shoulder lightly, and Oliver nodded. "No, it makes sense. But if this... other person knew about the warehouse..."

"Then they would have ordered Hudson killed to protect the secret." Sara nodded. She furrowed her brow, "but why didn't they kill your stepfather at the same time? If they knew Hudson knew, they had to know he knew."

Oliver swallowed, a thought occurred to him. "Leverage." He thought back to the Island, Slade, and "Scylla".

"What do you mean? The Gambit was Leverage..." Felicity started, but then she got it - though she was the last to. Diggle, Laurel and Sara had already at least followed the first part of what was racing through his mind.

His own theory was still forming, but it made sense.

His mother wasn't a killer. She loved Walter. She wouldn't have done anything to him, and even if his father had been unfaithful, he couldn't see his mother killing him. Especially not when he was on the yacht. And she wouldn't be involved in whatever scheme the man behind the Dark Archer was involved in.

Not willingly.

But _unwillingly?_ The kind of unwillingly that would make his mother find and dredge up the wreck of the Queen's Gambit, and then steal money from the company to hide the purchase of a warehouse to store it?

 _Mom would do anything to keep Thea safe, especially after thinking I was dead._

"Whoever that is she was talking to - the odds are that they're the one behind the List, and they're the one who..." Oliver paused a moment, then, "the one who sabotaged the Queen's Gambit. Whoever they are, my mother didn't trust them. That had to be why she salvaged the yacht, hid it."

"She would have been planning to double-cross them," Diggle warned, still suspicious of his mother.

"No, no, that doesn't make any sense," Sara interjected. "The wreck of the Gambit might be enough to bring whoever that was, the List's author, down, sure. If it could be linked to them. But it would take time. More than enough time for this person to do something to your mother. Release evidence of their own or... worse." She said that last word softly.

"Mutually assured destruction." Laurel nodded. "But if that's the case, then why would she be willing to get rid of it so easily, if it's her leverage?"

"Walter. He went missing. If this person was behind Hudson's accident, then they could have done the same thing for Walter. And if they really wanted to contain what he knew, they'd have killed him as soon as they knew he knew. But if they were trying to make sure my mother cooperated..."

"Then they wouldn't kill him." Felicity finished his thought. "Crap. And here I've been thinking the worst of your mother."

"It's just a theory..." Diggle cautioned, but then he let out a sigh. "But it's a theory that does make sense."

"But where does that leave us, then?" Felicity asked. "What's next? What did you want me for?"

"Well, I wanted to know what else you knew about Walter's investigation - and we do know more now." Oliver pointed out. "But maybe... maybe you can help us find out the rest. We're running out of time to find the Dark Archer, and if Walter really is alive and being used as leverage against my mother, I want to find out where he is and bring him home. As soon as possible. As for how you can help with that..." Oliver shrugged. "I don't have an idea, to be honest."

"There's something that's been bugging me about this List since you told me about it." Sara said after a moment. She took her detective's badge out of her pocket and looked at it for a moment, before going on, holding it loosely by her side.

"That list is mostly one percenters, right?" Sara asked.

"More or less, yeah. And a handful of others." Leo Muller, Ted Gaynor, the head of Applied Sciences at Queen Consolidated - Oliver hadn't been able to find anything on him, so he'd put that off for the time being. Others.

"Would now be the right time to say I copied down every name on the List and saved it?" Felicity asked.

"Yes, actually, perfect time." Sara said, before Oliver could respond to Felicity's comment. "Bring it up, can you?" _Well, I suppose it makes sense that she would._ Felicity seemed like she preferred computers to books or paper, so of course she'd digitize the list for trying to make sense of it.

Felicity nodded, and brought it up as requested. Sara looked over the long document in a text file.

"Everyone on that list is bad, right?"

"So far, yeah," Oliver said. "Up to one thing other another - usually stealing from the people of this city, or... letting people die or suffer for their own gain."

"Right. You thought maybe this was your father, atoning for his sins against the city. Like when he shut down this plant. Which makes sense but... it wasn't him. Okay - but here's a better question. Why in the hell would someone have a list like this, if not to turn it against the police? Whoever is behind this hasn't done anything to stop these people, so it's not a hit list."

"Obviously not, no," Oliver agreed with Sara.

"I'm not some trained assassin or master archer, like you and Laurel, or a soldier or a hacker like you two," she gestured to Diggle and Felicity. "I'm a cop. Which means I approach a mystery like this from that perspective. At the end of the day, there's really only a few reasons to kill someone - like your father. Money, jealousy and covering up a crime make the top of the list."

"So you think someone on the List killed my father?" Oliver was not following her logic at all.

"No, god no. You're not _listening_ , Oliver." She pinched the bridge of her nose and started to pace. "Okay, look at it like this - if you have evidence that someone's committing a crime, what do you do with it, if you aren't going to take the law into your hands?"

"Go to the police?" Felicity suggested.

"Right. But they're not doing that. I mean, could be any number of reasons - Adam Hunt and Martin Somers had judges and prosecutors in their back pockets and god knows the one percent can get away with a lot in this city. So maybe you don't think the police will be able to do anything. But if you cared about punishing these people - you could release the evidence you have to the media. I mean, even if it wasn't enough for a court of law, something hard - more than just rumor - on some of the things that Hunt, or Broduer, or Ravich, say, were up to, could _ruin_ some of these people."

"Stock prices would fall, investors would flee... people wouldn't want to risk doing business with them," Laurel nodded. "It wouldn't be total, but it would be something."

"But again, they're not doing that. So what else would you use that information for? If you were just sitting on it, why would you have a List like this? And more importantly, why would you hire a no doubt very expensive assassin - I mean, someone trained by the League could command a high fee, right?" Laurel nodded, and Sara went on. "So you're spending a _lot_ of money to kill two vigilantes on the mere _supposition_ \- good supposition, but still, just a supposition - that they know about the List. What would you be trying to hide."

"You said it yourself, Oliver." Sara noted as she look to him.

"Leverage." Oliver said softly as he realized it.

"Exactly. Blackmail. Which is a crime. And blackmail on _this_ scale? God, I shudder to think what someone might be doing with that much money." Sara finally stopped moving and waved a finger in front of her. "Your dad had a copy of this list. And you said you thought it was about him atoning for his sins but... I mean, sure, he shut down the Steel Mill, and did other things to help leave people in this city destitute, but he didn't actually break any laws. Bad things, things that hurt this city." She took a breath.

"What if the real sin that was bothering him was that he had this List - or at least, had a copy of it, I should say - and did _nothing_ with it. If he had a copy, then - then he had to be involved, somehow."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest the idea, knee-jerk, but the words died before they could even really form in his head. He closed his mouth, and nodded, after a moment. It made sense.

"But whoever was behind it killed him. Which means... he had second thoughts." Oliver said softly. It was a thought he grabbed onto, in memory of his father - imperfect though he was, as a husband and as a CEO, he was still his father. He'd always been a good father. And he wanted to believe that at his core, his father was a good man.

"It would make sense," Sara nodded. She turned to Felicity, "How long would it take you to find out which people in the one percent of this city aren't on the List?"

"A couple hours, maybe a day." Felicity said. "Depending on how hard it is to track down net worths and how far you want me to dig."

"As much as you can," Sara told her. She turned back to the rest of them. "Think about - whoever it is had to be someone your dad associated with. Has to have the resources to find all this out about these people, _and_ blackmail them, **and** hide it, _**and**_ sabotage the Queen's Gambit, _**and**_ kill Hudson _**and-**_ The list is long, but it would require resources. Even to start. It has to be a one percenter. So if we start with the list of one percenters not on the List..."

"We can narrow it down." Laurel nodded. "But just because a one percenter isn't on the list - I mean, not every rich person in the city breaks the law."

"That's true. God knows I wanted to find something on Walter when we first got back to Starling," Oliver noted. "But he's clean. Completely. And we can't assume every person not on the List is in on... it. Whatever this is. But it gives us a place to start."

"I can run deep backgrounds on everyone we turn up," Felicity suggested. "It'll take time, and I'd really like to upgrade your system, if I'm going to be doing that work here." She turned back to look at Oliver. "Since I assume you're prefer I don't use the servers at Queen Consolidated."

"Preferably, yeah," Oliver nodded.

"Then yeah, I'm going to have to upgrade these systems. But I can do it." Felicity nodded.

"I can use police resources. And - though we should probably keep it as a last resort, we can always have the Hood start paying visits. But that should be a last resort."

"We don't want to top our hands too early," Laurel agreed.

Diggle held up a hand halfway, clearing his throat. Oliver - and everyone else - turned to him.

"This all sounds good, and seems like a good place to start, but I've got a question we haven't touched on yet: What's the Undertaking?"

 _Shit._

"Has to be what all this blackmail is for. The... the thing all this money is being saved for," Sara said slowly. "But... I..." she exhaled, shaking her head. "I... I have no idea."

"Whatever it is..." Laurel started softly.

"It can't be good." Oliver finished, just as quietly. "Which means, one way or another-"

"We have to stop it." Laurel finished this time in turn.


End file.
